Guilty Pleasure
by ThassasLilSister
Summary: Exactly as the title states, and entirely self indulgent, typical Voltron AU where the Legendary Defenders are a Rock Band and everyone I can think of from the series makes an appearance. This is a Klance fan-fic with shades of Shadam. Be warned, this is slow burn, that simmers for many chapters. Story takes place post Allurance. History - Lance and Keith keep missing each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Guilty Pleasure - Chapter 1 - Dare, Double-Dare**

 _Garrison Inn, San Diego California_

Lance was looking for Keith. He knew he was hiding somewhere in this building. The party has been pretty cool so far, but as an industry event, it was getting a bit boring. The hotel they were in had been an old army barracks and thus, had many cool nooks and crannies which enabled Keith to hide out effectively.

Lance was looking for a partner in mayhem and had already struck out with his other bandmates. Hunk was chatting up the chef in the kitchen because the food was 'mega' good. He wanted tips on the perfect 'gluten free puff pastry' which Hunk swore defied the laws of physics. Pidge and Matt were in the DJ booth, getting the scoop on a new MIDI machine, and also using their influence to alter the playlist (if the frequency of 21 Pilots songs was anything to go by). Allura does not involve herself in _shenanigans,_ 'thank you very much,' and Shiro was being talked at by _Mr. Slav_ about 'record sales projections from now into the fourth quarter.' Lance deftly avoided that conversation _entirely_.

So that left Keith, who was hiding because he hates people. Lance knows that is not technically true. Keith hates crowds and talking to people in crowds. Or talking to people in general. Maybe he does hate people, Lance mused.

The band was about to head out on the European leg of their tour and the party was currently made up mostly of employees from their record company, industry dudes, publicists and the bands entourage. Entertainment reporters had been there earlier to interview the band. Thankfully, most of them had already left. Also, earlier, some of the staff had brought their kids, which had been pretty entertaining. Lance chuckled remembering Keith handling everything well enough, until a pre-teen girl skipped up to him and then, without any warning attached herself to him like a Koala hugs a eucalyptus tree. Then, overwhelmed by emotion, the poor kid burst into tears. It was quite a scene. Keith awkwardly patting her back and looking around desperately for someone to save him. Shiro obliged, by unwrapping the kid while talking in his calmest voice. Then giving the kid a gift pack and a glass of water, before handing her off to a kind intern. That had been the end of any real excitement. Now the party seemed to be a lot people who worked together, every single day, drinking and still talking about work.

Lance, having searched the entire main floor, wandered out onto the wrap around porch. There were some people milling about, but no Keith that he could see. He looked out into the grounds and saw one of those old-school military-style obstacle courses. 'That would catch Keith's eye.' he thought, heading over to check it out. Alas, still no Keith. Though the course was pretty cool, having a wall and those tire things that you jog through.

Walking back to the hotel, Lance's eye is drawn to movement in the shadows on one of the third-floor balconies. Keith is sitting on the floor, knees brought to his chest, eyes closed, leaning his head back against the wall. He is holding an empty glass in his hands, turning it slowly.

"There you are," Lance calls up to Keith, whose only response is to open his eyes and lift his glass and nod his head in a kind of toast. "Come down here!" Lance demands. "Why?" Keith responds, barely raising his voice to be heard. "'Cause I'm bor-red." Lance drags out the last word and it is clear he believes that should be enough to draw Keith from his seclusion. "So?" Keith responds again in monotones. Lance sighs dramatically and makes his way all the way _back_ onto porch and _back_ through to the hotel ballroom. He stops at the bar to grab a whiskey sour for Keith and another fruity, pineapple cocktail for himself. He notices that Hunk has now joined Pidge and Matt. The three of them seem to have taken over the DJ booth. It also looks as though Hunk and Pidge are arguing over the next song to play. Hunk is holding a piece of equipment high above Pidge's head with a triumphant smirk. He also sees the maniacal gleam that enters Pidge's eyes. 'That doesn't look as though it will end well.' He smiles to himself, happy to have chosen to hang with Keith. He decides not to try to negotiate his way through the crowd to the main staircase in the lobby. Instead, Lance wanders out the back of the ballroom to an old-fashioned elevator. He presses the up button with his knuckle and waits an extremely long time for the elevator to come down.

"Knock-knock," Lance announces as he walks out the open screen door onto Keith's balcony. Keith startles, almost dropping his glass. "Jeez man, How did you even get in here?" Lance shrugs nonchalantly, "Maid." He says, taking a sip of his drink and offering the other one to Keith. "That's allowed?" Keith asks incredulously, accepting the drink and, once again, tilting the glass as though saying cheers before he takes a sip. "It's not," Lance agrees as he settles himself at the front of the balcony with his legs hanging through the white wood slats. "But what can I say? People love to please me." He grins over his shoulder at Keith, then jerks his head forward indicating Keith should come and sit beside him.

Instead of shuffling forward on his butt, Keith stands and walks to the balcony rail, resting his arms on it and sighs. "What's up emo?" Lance asks, while pressing his face between the slats of wood, just to see how it feels. Experience has taught him not to press too hard. "I guess I am not really looking forward to another two months on tour," Keith says. He sounds so despondent that Lance stands beside him, nudging him. "Dude, it's Europe, we made the _big time_.You know, an actual _World_ tour. I mean if you leave out Asia, and Australia, and Antarctica, but who'd tour Antarctica?" Lance tapers off his babbling, watching Keith take a slow breath as though he is trying to centre himself. "Yeah, I suppose you're right, I guess I am just tired." When Keith says that last word, he seems to embody it, it comes out like a deep sigh and his shoulders compress on themselves noticeably. Lance realizes this isn't just Keith burned-out on a party crowd.

Lance feels that little tiny fear he gets when Keith seems unhappy with anything to do with the band. He falls back on his old failsafe, _Lance's cheer-up mode_. "Think of the hotties," he says, and waggles his eyebrows., "I mean, I know you are not into the babes, but I am sure we can find you some fancy Eurotrash guy complete with frosted tips who doesn't wear socks in his dress shoes." Keith's face is frozen for a moment before he snorts inelegantly, a ironic smile forming on his lips. "Right, 'cause that would be my type." He laughs again, giving Lance an eye roll as he takes another sip of his drink. He mutters something like, 'frosted tips.' "Well, I figured, 80s hair…" Lance shrugs and congratulates himself, as he always does when he can make moody Keith laugh. Keith looks away and back at Lance again, and starts laughing again, shaking his head.

They stand for another moment in silence finishing their drinks, when Shiro comes down off the porch with a few of producers from the Altea label. Allura and Coran are with them, as Allura needs to stay in loop regarding the overall management of the company. They are relentlessly followed by Mr. Slav, who is still talking about sales projections, this time in relation to merchandise at the European venues. It is pretty clear that Shiro was trying to escape this discussion by the manner in which he keeps sighing and spinning his empty wine glass in his good hand.

As they are watching this scene play out, Lance is toying with the maraschino cherry from his drink, when Keith nudges him and gestures to the cherry. "Wha' you want it?" Lance asks, surprised. Keith isn't usually into sweet things. "Betcha can't drop that into Shiro's glass from here," Keith says quietly, eyes full of mischief and a small smile pulling on the corners of his mouth. Lance glances down and back at Keith, a grin taking over his face. "Watch me." Lance takes a minute to line up the shot, holding the fruit just so. Once he feels confident, he releases his grip on the stem, letting the cherry drop, a moment later a satisfying clink rings in the air. Mr. Slav seems not to have noticed that it is raining fruit, possibly because Coran continues to hold his gaze, almost desperately. However, Shiro, Allura and a few of the producers look up in surprise. For a moment, Lance and Keith are able to maintain innocent expressions. Shiro mouth flattens into a line and his gaze sharpens ever so slightly. Lance fully recognizes that look, and makes a kinda choking noise, which is 40% suppressed laughter and 60% well established fear of authority figures. Shiro, not taking his eyes from the boys, politely says to the rest of this group, "Excuse me, I have to respond to this... text." Then purposely heads back into the hotel, both Keith and Lance run for it. And the game is on.

Lance and Keith are both laughing and leaning into one another as they climb the stairs to the roof. Once up there, they double over. It takes them a few minutes to calm down. "Okay, my turn," Lance says through wheezes. "What do you mean, _your turn_?" Keith breaths back. "My turn to dare you," Lance says indignantly. "That wasn't a dare, you would have done it anyway," Keith says with a half laugh. Lance wags his finger in Keith's face, "You know the rules mister. It is my turn to dare." Keith sighs and waits as Lance hums to himself looking around the rooftop for something dare worthy. "I betcha can't walk on the ledge over there." He teases Keith. "Really?!" Keith asks, incredulously. "That's too easy." "Easy? We are three stories up." Lance challenges. Keith shoots a look over his shoulder and says dryly. "I will do more than walk it." He starts to stretch out his arms and roll his shoulders as he approaches the ledge and Lance feels his stomach drop. "Keith," he says in a warning voice. Before he has a chance to do anything more, Keith steps up to the ledge and finds his centre of balance. Lance is kicking himself mentally for sometimes forgetting how Keith has the tendency to take things to _the next level_. Lance holds his breath and doesn't speak again. Keith bounces a little on the balls of his feet before he does three quick, graceful backflips down the ledge and lands with a bounce, jumping back onto the roof. "You Fucker!" Lance bellows, finally able to breathe again. Keith looks around, "Now what should I get you to do?" "NO! No! No. We are getting off this roof!" Lance announces, turning Keith by the shoulders toward the stairwell.

On the way back downstairs, Keith dares Lance to slide down the main staircase bannister. He does, side saddle, almost flying off the end into a well dressed middle-aged woman. Clearly she is shocked by his sudden and exceptional entrance. Lance smooths things over by kissing her hand and welcoming her to the hotel all gentleman-like. Lance then challenges Keith to take over the coat check, when the unsuspecting staff on duty sneaks out for a cigarette. Keith gets some double takes from confused guests and makes $15 in tips before the poor kid comes back to his post. Keith gets Lance to deliver someone's room service by bribing the kitchen staff with promo codes for free albums. The honeymooning couple they deliver food to are extremely surprised to have a Rock Star bring their meal. Then the bride mentions Lance is on her "list" to which her husband exclaims "Not on our wedding night!" The two boys duck out of the impending marital discord and find their way back to the ballroom. All the while, they are dodging Shiro, who is probably getting good and stoked to give a lecture on the importance of maintaining a professional public persona, as he tracks their movements through the hotel.

Feeling confident that they have either lost Shiro, or he has given up chasing them, Lance and Keith settle back at the bar in the ballroom. The crowd has definitely thinned. The music is still playing and there is a small group of enthusiastic dancers. Keith gets another whiskey sour and Lance is nursing his fifth cocktail of the night. Given the evening started at 7 and it is now midnight, he isn't sloshed, but feeling nicely buzzed. Usually, Lance would like to dance, but he is feeling pretty mellow. He ponders the group for a moment and then says to Keith, "You know, you are a pretty good dancer, why don't you ever dance in a group like this?" Lance already thinks he knows the answer, but they are having bonding time, and it is fun to tease Keith. "Too many bodies, too close together." Keith responds shortly. Lance smiles, "Are you, like, allergic to people?" "No," Keith says indignantly. "I am just saying, there is tons of room," He gestures to the mostly empty ballroom, "Why does everybody need to be pushed up together?" "'Cause it's fun," Lance leans in bobbing his head with a smirk, "And it's sexy." he leans back pretending to regard Keith. "I think you don't wanna dance close 'cause you're scared." He draws out the last word, eyes alight with mischief.

Keith doesn't bite, he rolls his eyes and mutters, "Whatever."

"No, seriously," Lance pushes, "You like to dance, but not the touching?"

"I. Like. Space."

Lance has never fully understood Keith's careful reserve, and has never figured out a safe way to ask him about it. So he continues to push even though he can see he is skirting on the edge of his patience. "So you are against getting up close and personal, that is "ick" to you?"

Keith sighs, as though Lance is deliberately misinterpreting him.

"No." Keith says emphatically. "There are people," he says measuring his words, "That I would not mind getting up close and personal with. However, that," he gestures to the crowd of dancers, "is claustrophobic."

Lance is giddy. He is not sure why, it could be the 5 drinks, or it could be how he always is when Keith shares these personal tidbits. As though Keith is Lance's personal puzzle to solve.

Lance hums to himself, "Prove it."

"What!?" Keith says with incredulity.

"I dare you." Lance says pointedly.

Keith gives a huff of laughter, "What exactly am I proving? That I don't want to dance in a crowd?"

"No silly." Lance rolls his eyes, "Prove you're not scared to dance all sexy with someone."

Keith sputters for a second, "Wha-how? That is just stupid!"

"So you _are_ scared?" Lance concludes with an irritating amount of confidence.

"No." Keith's face now a cross between a scowl and an adorable pout.

"So, prove it." Lance is already turning to search the dance floor for a suitable partner for this next dare.

"Lance." Keith's voice is a warning.

Lance is has long struggled with boundaries, and in past years has gotten better at respecting them. However, for some reason, with Keith he still doesn't always know when to quit. In his heart he believes Keith will actually tell him when he goes too far, but Keith isn't good at boundaries with Lance either. Most people just give Keith wide berth. Suffice to say, few people push him the way Lance habitually does. Sometimes it is a good thing, taking Keith out of his comfort zone. Other times, clearly, it is not. Unfortunately, Lance usually finds out he has gone too far after Keith blows up at him. Other times it backfires on Lance in a way he could never predict.

Fair warning, this is about to be one of those times.

Lance's eyes are searching the dance floor for a suitable partner for Keith to 'sexy dance' with.

"How about Acxa?" Lance asks.

"How about Acxa what?" Keith responds totally behind on current events.

"How about her as a dance partner? She wouldn't refuse."

"Lance, first off, NO, I am not doing this! Secondly," he drops his voice, "that would be so mean, she has a huge crush on me." Keith squirms as though the conversation is giving him hives.

"REALLY?!" Lance asks loudly, staring out at the dance floor again. "How long has that been going on?!" He exclaims, oblivious to Keith's desire to be swallowed by the floor.

"Oh my god." Keith says under his breath as he runs his hand down his face. He wonders if he can sneak away. Lance must sense his intention because he grabs Keith's elbow as he shouts, "What about James?" He looks over at Keith with delight. Keith's face is frozen in shock and dismay. Lance seems to think better of this choice. "Oh, yeah, probably a bad idea, what with the history of fist fights and stuff."

"Yes," Keith says ironically, "This is a _bad idea_."

Lance ignores him reassessing the crowd of dancers. "Of course. Why didn't I think of this before? Plaxum. You guys are kinda friends. She thinks your moodiness is cute. She knows you're gay. I dare you to go sexy dance with Plaxum." He turns again to Keith, who just stares back.

Lance raises his eyebrows innocently while he does a gleeful little wiggle. "I. Dare. You." He leans back again and gives Keith a knowing look. "Otherwise I am just going to think you are a prude and I will never stop teasing you about it." He adds for good measure.

This is the point where Keith either blows up, stomps away, or irrationally takes the bait. Lance knows he has won when Keith's jaw sets in grim determination. Lance calls it Keith's point-of-no-return face. As Keith stands and stalks off to the dance floor, Lance leans back to enjoy the show, feeling ever so proud of himself.

The first time the band went on tour, the members had to take dance classes with Allura to improve their stage presence. Given that Hunk was behind a drum set and Pidge behind a keyboard, they didn't need too much in the way of coaching. Lance and Keith were given much more attention, because they needed to 'own the stage'. Lance, was delighted to be called a natural, and teased Keith endlessly about his discomfort in letting loose in front of an audience. But like all things, Keith, once he got over his self consciousness, excelled. He had a natural rhythm and a lithe, athletic body which moved effortlessly with the music. Lance tells himself that he didn't dare Keith because he thought he wouldn't look good dancing. No, he did it because he felt Keith needed to challenge himself to actually touch people once in a while. Also, he thought it would be funny to watch him try.

Keith is already moving with the music as he approaches the crowd. He makes eye contact with Plaxum and she smiles at him welcomingly. They dance a normal distance apart for a while, and Keith slowly moves closer, Plaxum looks a little surprised, but her face is friendly and she meets him halfway. Lance notices that Keith doesn't look uncomfortable. On the contrary, Keith looks _very_ comfortable. The two draw closer together intuitively and move to the music like a symbiotic organism. Keith has slid one hand around Plaxum's back and she is running her hands up his arms and to his shoulders. Their legs are in between one another as Keith moves even closer as they continue gyrating. Lance feels his cheeks start to burn. This is totally not going as planned. Plaxum murmurs something to Keith and he smiles with the corners of his mouth and give one of his tiny nods. He slides both of his hands to her waist she leans back in an arch, going round and coming back up slowly. As she rises her arms return to his shoulders, their mouths almost touching.

Lance slams his glass down on the bar in surprise causing the bartender to give him a frown. He feels as though he has been played, as irrational as that may be. If Keith really didn't want to do this, why was he doing it so… well? On top of that, the song seems to be lasting a _really long time_. Lance feels jittery. It is when Plaxum slides her hands up the back of Keith's neck and toys with his hair that Lance finds himself standing beside them on the dance floor pulling Keith by his shoulders, in much the same way in directed him off the roof earlier in the evening.

"Sorry to break this party up guys, but we have a super early morning tomorrow." Lance announces leading Keith away from the dance floor. "You know, flights to catch… to Europe… and stuff…"

He maneuvers Keith right off the dance floor out the back door of the ball room and to the bright lights of the hall in front of the ancient elevator.

"OOOkay." Keith says, as though he is used to Lance's bizarre behaviour. Which he is.

"Shut up." Lance replies, not looking at him, as he repeatedly presses the up button on the elevator.


	2. Chapter 2 - Good Bands Don't

Guilty Pleasure - Chapter 2 Good Bands Don't

The elevator is ancient and takes its time coming down to the main floor. Lance spends this interlude trying to figure out how to avoid discussing his own, very weird, reaction to Keith's dance with Plaxum. Lance is hoping his behaviour is being seen as sour grapes because Keith showed him up on the dare. In fact, Lance reminds himself, that is probably what his reaction was…. Right? Lance is definitely peeved that Keith always seems to win at stuff like this, without even trying. He runs that thought over in his brain and it makes sense. Yup, that was definitely what threw him off.

When the elevator finally arrives he hops in and presses the third floor button before Keith even steps inside. Keith is sauntering. When Keith moves slow, sometimes Lance takes it personally, like he's is doing it to bother him, too highlight when Lance is being hyperactive. This is irrational. Lance knows this, because he knows Keith is generally obtuse about the nuances of other people's feelings and behaviours.

Keith finally makes it into the elevator and leans against the back rail, his hands half in the front pockets of his jeans. The doors close and the elevator makes a disconcerting lurch and grinding noise before it starts moving up. Lance, still jittery, and wanting to stop feeling hyper aware and exposed, tries to recapture their shared enjoyment from earlier. "I wonder if the elevator got stuck if you could climb out that escape hatch all the way up to our floor." Lance muses, not at all seriously. "I bet you could. We could press the stop button and try it." He raises an eyebrow giving Keith a tilt of his head. Lance is hoping for that half smile that will indicate the awkwardness is behind them.

"God, no." Keith grimaces totally misreading Lance's attempt at humour. "If we stopped the elevator after people saw us get in together, they would think we were having sex in here." Lance is immediately defensive. "One time, that happened ONE TIME. AND we weren't having sex… Nyla just..." His voice fades to nothing as he catches Keith giving him some serious side eye. Lance huffs, defeated. "You're probably right though" He sighs, knowing that he has developed a bit of a reputation for being quite the player. A reputation which, unfortunately, does not match his reality. "Except it is a pretty slow elevator, people may not even notice it stopped." He tries again, half heartedly. Keith looks up at Lance for a moment before huffing a laugh and dropping his gaze back to the doors. "Still not doing it."

Lance nods. It isn't long before the silence begins to unnerve him. He starts to bounce from heel to toe. Looking around the elevator for something interesting to talk about, or bet about, or base a crazy dare on. Irritated by Keith's apparent calm. His eyes fall on the elaborate art deco chandelier hanging from the ceiling. "Wow, that is some light fixture for an elevator." Keith glances up at it and hums non-committedly.

More awkward silence, though chances are it isn't awkward for Keith. He just looks tired. The way he looked earlier when he complained about going on tour for another two months. Recalling this does nothing for Lance's peace of mind. The whole point of the game was to get Keith out of this funk, to remind him all the reasons why life with the band is awesome.

Taking a deep breath, Lance tries to mimic Keith's stance against the rail, but it is not long before he is tapping his foot and slapping his hands on his legs, eyes still roaming the space. Good golly this thing is slow. They could have walked up the stairs three times now. Backwards.

"Do you think you could do a flip in here?" Lance asks randomly. It's not even a conscious thought before he says it. Keith gives him sceptical sidelong glance. "Why would I do that?" The high of their game is long gone, and Lance's attempts at rekindling it seem desperate even to his own ears. "I don't know," He says half heartedly. "Because we're bored and we may be in here for another year."

Keith gives a placating sigh as he rolls his eyes, and Lance is surprised when he moves to the centre of the elevator and glances around himself getting a sense of the space. "Um, Really?" Lance asks, because he wasn't being serious, he was literally not even thinking.

"You asked." Keith shrugs, still gauging his surroundings. Lance holds his breath, as he did earlier when Keith did flips on the roof. Mindful of the space, Lance presses himself back against the wall as flat as the rail will let him. Keith seems to decide there isn't enough room for a free form backflip. Instead he takes two fast steps toward the wall and propels himself off of it. This leaves one, almost perfect, sneaker print on vintage satin wallpaper. Lance watches in awe as Keith tucks his head forward while his curled body flips backward. It is so fluid and graceful it looks almost unreal, like a cartoon or a video game character. Lance is so entranced that he notices, too late, how Keith's sneakered feet are on trajectory to hit the fancy light fixture. There is a distinctive crash, like a handful of cutlery falling onto metal counter. Keith knows exactly what has happened, because as soon as he lands, in an impressive display of instinct, he throws himself backward to avoid shards of crystal raining down on his head.

There is a moment where the boys both stare up at the light, until it stops rattling and swinging back and forth. It is at this point that the elevator dings and opens to their floor. Lance's heart lightens, because this definitely overshadows his earlier faux pas over the dancing. He grins at Keith and says, "Now that's what I am talking about!"

All in all, the damage isn't so bad. Even though at least half of the crystal shards have been knocked off the round metal base only a few of them have been broken. They boys carefully gather the pieces up and place them in the corner of the elevator. This is only complicated by them having to hold the elevator door open to keep it from making its slow trek back to the main floor. As they finally step out, Keith gazes warily at the ceiling and says, "Shiro's gonna know that was us." Lance pulls him away as the doors slide closed, saying, "It'll be tOtAlLy fine. Don't worry about it!"

Lance is tired and he knows Keith is too. They really do have to be up early in the morning for their flight, but Lance wants to get back to the positive vibe they had going earlier. He drags Keith into his hotel room, giving the excuse that they should probably hydrate or they'll feel like shit tomorrow. Keith is surprisingly cooperative, following Lance at the same sauntering speed he has maintained since they left the ball room.

Lance grabs glasses of water for both of them from the bathroom and sprawls across one of the beds. He considers hanging his head upside down toward Keith who slides down one of the walls to sit on the floor. The drinking Lance has done tonight makes the upside down position intolerable, so he adjusts to lie diagonally with his eyes closed. "Do you mind if I...?" he hears Keith say, and he squints toward him to see him gesturing toward the custom red Gibson Explorer Lance has left leaning against his suitcase.

The guitar is small for Lance, because it used to belong to Keith. It is a thing of beauty and grace, a responsive and surprisingly powerful instrument. Lance makes a noise of ascent and turns over so he can watch Keith take the guitar. Keith absently runs his hands over the instrument with something akin to reverence. They all have multiple instruments, but everyone has favourites. Keith now usually plays Shiro's old black Gibson SG Standard or his own Indigo Fender Strat. Nobody else gets to touch that Strat. Still, sometimes when Keith is writing, he will ask Lance for 'Red.' He strums lightly on the keys, humming something under his breath.

Lance's ears perk up, it doesn't sound like anything he has heard yet. Over the years Lance and Keith have developed a great writing relationship. Working together used to be quite tumultuous, but they have come to know each other's strengths and tend to challenge one another's creativity. Keith pushes Lance try new things while Lance keeps Keith's music grounded, pulls him back from the edge. Lance is excited and hopeful. While he knows his bandmate can find being on the road tedious, it will provide time for the two of them to bond over creating new music. Keith sighs, "It's not anything I am ready to share yet." Lance feels a sinking disappointment, but remembers that this is part of Keith's process. He'll share when he is ready. They sit in companionably silence for a moment, Keith's brow is furrowed and Lance assumes he is working out something to do with the song he was playing until he says, "Why did you ask me to dance with Plaxum?"

Ugh. So much for distractions.

"I don't know," Lance answers honestly, "I think I was trying to figure something out about you and… people."

Keith answers with an unsatisfying, "Hm."

Not wanting the spotlight to remain on the dance, especially not the embarrassing end to it, Lance asks, "Why did you ask me to drop the cherry into Shiro's glass?"

Keith gives a small smile, "Well, 'cause you like doing stuff like that. You get all chuffed about it when you can make the shot" he says with a shrug. "Also, Shiro looked ready to stab himself in an eyeball to get out of that conversation."

Lance is surprised, having asked the question to shift the attention away from himself, but Keith's answer indicates a level of forethought he isn't used to associating with him.

There is another moment of silence before Lance says, "Did you actually just say 'chuffed'?"

Their eyes meet for a second and they both laugh. "Yeah,I guess I have been hanging around Coran a bit much" Keith says, gently settling Red into her case and latching it shut.

Lance flips over to his back again and Keith stands to nudge Lance over to the foot of the bed so he can sprawl opposite him. Both have their legs hanging over opposite sides of the bed. Lance's eyes keep getting drawn to the flashing red light of the smoke detector.

"Did you ever imagine we would make it this far, a European tour?" Lance asks.

"No, I didn't think we would stay together past graduation." Keith said wryly. Lance makes a noise of ascent. They two of them really didn't get along at the beginning. Something in Keith's tone nags at Lance,as though maybe Keith wishes he hadn't stayed with the band. Something about Keith's mood tonight is setting him off.

"Which people?" Lances asks out loud, much to his own surprise and Keith's confusion.

"Pardon?" Keith asks, nose wrinkled and eyebrows furrowed.

"You said you don't mind getting physically close to certain people. Is there, like… you know… a list?" It is only at this moment that Lance realizes he has been replaying their conversation from earlier in the back of his mind.

Keith must stare at him perplexed for like ten seconds. Before he shakes his head slightly and says slowly, "I guess it could be a list, a very short one."

Lance, intrigued, moves closer to Keith, "Really?! Who's on it?" Keith snorts derisively, "I am not telling you." Why not?" Lance asks, offended, "I'll tell you who's on my list." "Like I'd have time." Keith fires back, "It'd be quicker for you to tell me the much shorter list of people you wouldn't kiss." "True." Lance agrees, warming up to the conversation, "But the point is your list is short, and therefore more interesting." "And therefore more private." Keith responds dryly. "Aw, Keith com'on!" Lance pleads, "What's a little list of potential kissees between bandmates?" "That's not even a word." Keith responds, deadpan.

"Puleeze!" Lance begs, Keith closes his eyes, pretending to sleep.

"Pleeeeeese." Lance strikes a higher note, moving closer.

Eyes still closed, Keith crosses his arms over his chest.

"PRIT-TEE Puleeze!" Lance sings, saccharine high pitch, right into Keith's ear.

Keith simultaneously grimaces and pushes Lance backwards. "No." He says with resounding clarity. "Absolutely not."

Lance pouts for a second allowing his body to slump forward, still playful. "Okay fiiine. Be that way." He drawls out. "At least tell me who you have kissed." He adds brightly. Keith sighs and rolls his eyes. "You know who I've kissed, we've practically lived in each other's pockets for the past 6 years." Lance ignores Keith's irritated tone even though it tweeks the small sense of panic that he has been feeling all night.

"So I guess that list is not a secret then." Lance says sitting up and taking the posture of a therapist listening to a client. "So," He says with a cultured accent, " Tell me about your most recent kiss." If Keith's eyes rolled any harder, they would have rolled right out of his head. "Lance." He says warily. Lance pats Keith's knee, "That's Dr. Lance, and you can trust me."

Keith's responds drily. "You know about my last kiss. After the Grammy's? With Lotor?"

"WHAT?!" Lance falls out of character completely, "I didn't know THAT!" Keith must think Lance is joking, because he just gives him a funny look and says, "Everybody knows that."

"Every… Every… Everybody knows that? No. No. No. No! NO! That is not... What everybody? I don't know this! I did NOT know this." Keith watches nonplussed as Lance sputters in disbelief.

"Oh." Keith says blankly, "I figured Pidge told you. If not Pidge, for sure Hunk."

Lance is stunned into silence. Apparently everybody, including Hunk, knew that Keith was kissing Lotor… after the Grammys. "And, where was I?" He asks, still grappling with this revelation.

"In the elevator." Keith answers incredulously. "With Nyma."

Lance is shamed into silence. That wasn't one of his proudest moments. They had been nominated in the best pop/group performance category, but didn't win. Nyma is an ex and he ran into her at the party the band went to after the awards. The night itself was a bit of a blur. At the time Nyma had seemed so sympathetic. Afterwards, once he was sober, he realized that she was just trying to stir up some tabloid publicity for her new band.

Lance had trouble remembering the night without a feeling of dread. He had been so sure they would win, but the night ended up being an embarrassing story for him to laugh off rather than the golden night of victory he had envisioned. It didn't help that Keith's apparent discontent with life on the road seemed to crystalize around that time.

And now this…

'So, Lotor's on the list?"

Once again Keith's nose wrinkles in confusion, "Of people I've kissed? Uh. Obviously."

"No," Lance feels defeated. He can't help it, Grammy night sucked. "Of people you want to kiss."

Keith's face smooths, he almost looks bemused. "Oh, No. Lotor is not on that list."

"But then… why?" Lance's voice trails away at the look that Keith gives him. Obviously he is in no position to judge people on their actions or kisses that night.

Lance presses his lips together and lies back on the bed. He can't shift the weight pressing against his chest. He sighs and realizes that he is lonely. He recognizes his own sigh is a mirror of Keith's from earlier that night. Maybe Keith is lonely too. Maybe all the thrill and pomp of being in a band and making music with your friends is missing some important bits for both of them.

Not for the first time that night, Lance's mouth acts before his brain has a chance to stop it. "Keith," he begins, his voice sound far away to his own ears, "Do you ever think about kissing me?"

Lance feels the weight on his chest press harder as Keith gasps a startled, "What?!" The feeling clarifies into a piercing pain when he looks over to see Keith eyeing him warily.

"Why?" Keith forms the word cautiously.

"I was just curious." Lance says quietly, pinned down by Keith's piercing gaze.

For a long time Keith doesn't look away. He is assessing something about Lance, about his question, about the situation. Lance keeps himself entirely still, as though awaiting a verdict, prepared to be deemed unworthy.

But then Keith is coming closer, leaning in, and in the fraction of a moment before their lips meet Lance remembers this is Keith, always pushing the edge, testing the boundaries. He doesn't discuss theories, he acts on instinct. He desperately tries to hold onto this thought like a life preserver before being hit by a tidal wave.

Because WOW.

That is what happens when Keith's lips meet his. He is swept away.

Keith is above him, carefully not pressing any of his weight on Lance, just lips. Soft, strong lips, a bit dry on the bottom where Lance can taste the place where Keith chews when he is distracted or deep in thought. Oh, and teeth. Keith is leaning in and he can feel the sharp press of teeth and everything in his mind disappears in a wave of violet eyes and soft dark hair. Oh, yes! That is what is happening. Lance hands have become unstuck and are now woven into Keith's hair. Keith isn't leaning in, so much as Lance is pulling him down. Wanting more.

Lance keeps a hand tangled into Keith's hair while he lets the other slide down to grab the front of his shirt. Tugging. He wants more, he wants Keith to press up against him with his weight. Keith resists and Lance makes a sound of protest in his throat.

Lance almost whines when Keith pulls his lips away, his eyes serious. Lance's hand slips from his hair to his shoulder and he rubs his fingers along the side of Keith's neck. Looking up with a sense of awe, he registers that Keith is beautiful. He wonders why he never noticed before.

"Lance," Keith begins,"How much have you had to drink tonight?" Lance panics. He tries to pull Keith back toward his mouth saying, "It's good man, I am totally sober. I want this." And it is true. Kinda true. He knows he is not 100% sober, but he wants Keith, he can feel it in every pore and every molecule of his body.

But Keith resists, never wavering from his gaze, "Lance, how many drinks have you had tonight?"

Lance recognizes that Keith will only accept the truth. "Like...5." He says in a resigned voice. He sees Keith's eyes shutter as he begins to pull away. "But I paced myself. I know what I am doing Keith. I want this." Lance almost winces at the pleading sound in his voice.

It's all for not, Keith is pulling away. Leaving. Lance knows not to beg, because he knows that face, that god-damned point-of-no-return face. But still, he can't seem to let go. "You could just crash here, we don't have to do anything."

Keith's face is stone. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

That dowses Lance with cold water.

Tomorrow.

In the real world.

Talking about kissing Keith.

With Keith.

Keith seems to recognize Lance's reaction and interprets it in the worst possible way. "I thought so. " he hears Keith say under his breath.

"Keith, No."

"Goodnight Lance."

The door closes with a click.

The room echoes with silence.

The weight in Lance's chest returns tenfold.

He throws his face into a pillow with a groan.


	3. Chapter 3 - Something to Talk About

Guilty Pleasure - Chapter 3 - Something to Talk About

Lance woke with a start to the steady drum of a heavy fist on his door.

"Wake up call!" Shiro's booming voice came through from the hall. Lance fumbled for his phone, fingers clumsy, he dropped it twice, finally scooping it up from the floor. 6:45 AM, somehow he had managed to snooze his alarm twice without waking up enough to remember.

He turned to his back slowly, he was still on top of the bed cover in his clothes, his head felt too heavy for his body and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. The memories of last night felt like rocks in his stomach. Knowing that the band needed to be on the bus by 7:30 Lance lay prone only an extra moment before forcing himself up out of bed toward the shower.

Ten minutes later, feeling a little less dead and a little more warmed over, Lance headed to his balcony window in his boxers and tee shirt rubbing a towel over his head. Outside he could see Keith pulling himself over the 6 foot wall in the ancient obstacle course in the distance. He felt his stomach rumble unpleasantly, either from last night's drinking or the thought of facing his bandmate this morning, he wasn't certain. Keith hung for a moment before dropping gracefully to the ground and running through the tire course. He was soaked with sweat and covered with a fine layer of dirt, indicating he'd been at this for some time. At the end of the tires there stood a line of hanging ropes which Keith made short work of. Climbing and swinging across with impressive speed. Lance winced, imagining the rope burn and it's later impact on playing guitar. Lance only noticed Shiro's arrival because Keith paused before continuing the course. Shiro was jogging beside the track and must have voiced similar concerns because Keith glanced down at his hands and shrugged. Holding them up to show they were somewhat protected by his fingerless gloves. Shiro jogged past still talking and gesturing with his head, and Keith, automatically fell into step beside him.

Lance suddenly felt like a voyeur, and stepped away from the window, heading back into the bathroom to do his morning skin care regime. He was going to need to make a supreme effort, in a short time, if he was going to have the confidence to face Keith this morning.

Twenty minutes later, hair blown dry, skin moisturized and spritzed, Lance headed out of his room. He carefully avoided the elevator and headed for the stairs to the main floor lobby. There was a breakfast room to one side where he planned to grab a coffee and maybe a piece of toast to settle his stomach. He was wearing his favourite blue rimmed sunglasses giving the impression that he was nursing a sorry hangover, but they were more to protect himself from having to meet Keith's eyes this morning.

His bags were left neatly packed to be transported to the airport but he carried Red's case planning to do a gate check for the guitar. The rest of the band would roll their eyes at his over-protective behaviour, but they were travelling all the way to Germany today and he didn't want her to get accidentally sent to Italy or something.

Pidge was messing with the fancy coffee machine, making a mocha something, Hunk offering suggestions and wincing when she ignored him and tried a combination of as many flavours as she could into one beverage.

Lance, usually a fancy coffee guy, went straight to the breakfast blend carafe and filled his extra large travel mug with straight coffee flavoured coffee. He topped it off with a fair amount of cream and double sugar.

"Rough night?" Pidge smirked at him with a knowing look.

"It wasn't so bad." Lance bluffed, popping his bread into the conveyor belt toaster. This place had been chosen for the level of privacy it could provide for the band, rather than the ritzy service. Thus, they were serving themselves breakfast.

"That's not what I heard." Pidge threw back cryptically.

Lance felt his blood turn to ice. What did _that_ mean? He shot a questioning glance toward Hunk who stared at him blankly, because Lance was wearing sunglasses, thus his 'look' was entirely hidden. 'Get a grip Lance." he told himself. 'Keith doesn't talk to people. The only person he would ever say anything to is Shiro.' Still, he could feel his heart racing. Suddenly the little room was too small for him. He picked up Red and headed out toward the bus. Ignoring when Hunk seemed to catch on, and he heard an aborted, "Lance, hey…" as he sped out the door.

Even with his sunglasses the light was unforgivably bright. The bus was still locked, so he set Red down and tried to sip his coffee with an air of nonchalance.

Keith slammed out the doors, hair still wet, looking ridiculously rested and good for someone who probably worked out for an hour - after only 4 hours sleep - _after_ a night of mischief… and Lance needed to stop thinking about that right now. Keith was munching on what looked like a protein bar. In his other hand was his water bottle. He didn't seem to expect Lance to be already waiting by the bus and stopped a good ten feet away as though in shock.

'Wow. Your early." Keith uttered with his usually lack of tact.

"Uh, ye-ah. We have a flight to catch." Lance said with as much sass as he could imbue into the short sentence.

Keith seemed at a loss for words. "It's just you usually…"

"I'm usually what?" Lance could not, for the life of him, figure out why he was willing to pick a fight over this, of all things. This is a hill he could die on. He knew he was always the last one on the bus. He also knew that the band had probably told him their flight left an hour before it actually did, because, even though it hadn't actually happened yet, if someone were to miss a flight to a gig, it would be Lance.

Keith's demeanor changed and he approached Lance casually, "Actually this is… uh.. Good. We need to talk."

"I'd really rather fight about my inability to be on time" Lance muttered under his breath.

"Huh?!" Keith queried.

"Nothing." Lance said, trying to square his shoulders and look casual at the same time.

"So, last night..." Keith started cautiously.

Lance felt himself panic. When people in bands got together, bad things happened, bands broke up, they fell apart, they turned into Jefferson Starship. All the things Lance believed he felt last night were miniscule compared to his fear of losing his band, his team, his second family. Keith couldn't think Lance had feelings for him. They couldn't air out the weird, beautiful, amazing chemistry that Lance had been tempted to dive into. Nope. Nope. Nope. This was a Pandora's box and it needed to stay firmly closed.

"You were absolutely right." Lance interrupted suddenly. "Too many drinks." He continued, barely noting Keith's carefully schooled expression. "You know me, I get handsy." He said making a gesture while sighing out a humourless laugh. "It was absolutely right to call me on that and to… stop… everything." Lance managed to get out. "You're a good guy." He added awkwardly. "A good friend."

"Good." Keith repeated slowly. "Good to know." He said with more certainty. "I am glad we cleared that up."

Instead of feeling relieved, Lance felt that awful weight settle back onto his chest.

"Lance, dude." Hunk called from the front door of the hotel. "You forgot your breakfast." He said bringing him carefully buttered toast on a napkin. Lance couldn't have had less of an appetite at that moment, but be mustered up a smile for his thoughtful friend and accepted the food.

Pidge and Coran then sauntered out of the hotel into the morning sun. Coran began unlocking the bus and settling into the driver's seat. As odd as it would seem that an executive at Altea would drive their tour bus, it was true. Just one of the many quirky things about this special band/family. Pidge shoved their way up the stairs before anyone else, giving Lance and Keith a warning look. "Oh, no. You two stay out here, I don't need to witness the dressing down that you two have coming."

Keith and Lance eyed each other confused. Shiro couldn't still be mad about the dare game? Could he? It was pretty tame and it had been mostly Altea staff who had been impacted.

At that moment Allura came out the front doors fuming. Her eyes flared when she saw Keith and Lance outside the bus. "I'm out." Pidge said, ducking into the dark vehicle. Hunk hopped up the stairs and him and Coran suddenly were very interested in a gauge on the bus's dashboard.

Allura stormed right up into Lance's personal space. "How could you?" She growled. She pulled off his sunglasses. "Don't you hide from me?" She glanced over at Keith, "And you? The two of you?" She gestured violently.

Lance was spiralling into confused panic. How could the band know? How could anybody know? Did Keith tell Shiro?

"I thought we were going to be different from other bands?" Allura continued ranting. Lance could feel sweat on his brow and he was shooting Keith questioning looks. "We weren't going to do things like this." Allura was speaking staccato and spit was flying out of her mouth.

'Ugh.." Lance trying to do damage control. "It was a total accident." He sputtered. "An-and we've talked about it and it will never happen again." Lance squeaked out, before swallowed heavily. "Right Keith?" He said with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, right." Keith said in a confused tone. "Um, what did we do?" He mistakenly added.

"Don't you play stupid with me." If possible Allura eyes went from flaming fury to cold anger. Keith took a small step back. "Firstly, how does _that_ happen by _accident?!"_ Allura was starting to rev up.

Lance interrupted desperately "I am actually surprised at how angry you are given our history." He gestured between them, to which Keith shot him an warning look that read ' _Not helping.'_

That seemed to render Allura speechless. No less angry, just speechless. "I should overlook this..? because you and I were once..?!"

Shiro seemed to appear from nowhere, and Lance sagged with relief. Shiro wouldn't let Allura hurt them. Right? Allura also seemed happy at Shiro's arrival, standing down to let him take over the ass-whipping that she seemed to think was necessary in this particular instance.

Shiro waited until both of the boys attention was focussed directly on him. Then, in his most parental tone he said, "I am very disappointed in both of you." Lance felt the familiar guilt of letting down his mentor and friend, but in watching Keith's face collapse, he felt an added agony. He wanted to reach over and comfort Keith. To stand in front of him. To tell Shiro it was all his fault, that he had started it all with his stupid questions.

But then Shiro said, "Do you know exactly how much an art deco style chandelier costs to be made, especially when it is retrofitted for an elevator?"

Time froze for a moment.

Lance tried his best not to look at Keith. But he failed.

Keith was trying very hard to school his features and losing the battle. Lance saw the moment when he had to bite his lower lip to keep from smiling.

Lance was losing his own battle and had to raise his hand to cover his mouth and nose, trying to make it look like an expression of shock.

Keith, much better at controlling his emotions managed, "I imagine it costs a lot." In stilted tones before having to cover his own face.

Allura, disgusted with both of them sighed loudly and turned on her heel to climb into the bus.

Shiro, not as unaffected as he would like to pretend, cleared his throat, and was mostly able to continue scowling as he said, "Yes, it costs a great deal. And that money will be taken from your personal income. Altea isn't paying for it."

Then Shiro climbed quickly onto the bus. Keith and Lance tried not to burst into laughter, but it took a few minutes before they felt they could safely climb into the vehicle with appropriately somber expressions.


	4. Chapter 4 - Border Crossing

**Some quick notes - the cover art is by CatHasCosplays from (instagram)**

 **They are doing a Klance web series called Crossing Lines on the Youtubes.**

 **Also, I haven't said this yet. But I don't own Voltron Defenders of the Universe or the Characters from the show.**

 **Had to say it.**

 **Also I had to make some edits to this chapter after I wrote the next one.**

Thank you for the lovely reviews and follows etc. I really appreciate it. Bit of a short chapter this week. I am working many jobs right now.

Guilty Pleasure Chapter 4 - Border Crossing

One would think that a European tour would be the ultimate road trip with your friends. However, Lance couldn't help but feel vaguely dissatisfied heading from the third city of this tour. Their three stops in Germany had been great shows, but the the pace of the tour was pretty intense, and there hadn't been any time for sightseeing in Berlin or Frankfurt.

Adam, who had come on board as their Tour Manager during their last 4 months travelling North America, was at the helm of this trip as well. He had ensured that the band had an opportunity to visit some sites in Nuremberg on their way to Munich, but it felt rushed and it seemed disrespectful to speed through a city so rich with history. Once they were back on the road, the bus had mechanical issues which slowed them down. When it was finally fixed they had to forgo their planned stop at Dachau Concentration Camp, where Pidge had hoped to pay respects. This was the first time most of them had been through Europe (other than major metropolitan centres). They knew touring was not the same as travelling for fun, and as much as Adam had warned them this could happen, it was still a bit disappointing.

If truth be told, Lance wasn't just bummed about not seeing _the sights._ He worked hard not to analyze his feelings, but he was definitely feeling irked about something else. He had tried not to notice the way Keith had maintained a careful distance from him since leaving San Francisco. It wasn't as if Keith could completely avoid Lance, that would be impossible. They spent their days travelling on the same bus, playing shows, practicing and doing sound checks together. However, Keith seemed always to choose the seat furthest away from Lance at dinner tables, in lounges and green rooms. On the bus Keith consistently had his nose in a book, or had his earbuds in, or was sleeping in one of the bunks. When they arrived at venues Keith seemed to disappear until they were needed on stage. During any in between times Keith always seemed to be elsewhere.

Lance hadn't thought much about how Keith was spending all his time, feeling a bit relieved at not having to confront his own awkward feelings about their last night before heading to Europe. At least, that is what he told himself until today. Because today, when the bus broke down Keith began to get antsy. He hung over the shoulders of Coran, Hunk and the mechanic. He poked at delicate machinery, picked up tools, made suggestions, scowled, sighed and was a general nuisance. Keith could fix a motorcycle, he could probably fix a tractor and he had built stock cars with Shiro, but he was out of his element when it came to a state-of-art European model tour bus. The very German mechanic had no patience for Keith's input and finally banished him to the inside of the bus. It was at this point that Adam leaned into Shiro and commented, "In future we should make note not to send Keith's new favourite playmate on ahead of the band."

Come again? Keith's _new favourite playmate? What's that all about?_

There was no privacy on the quiet bus to quiz Hunk about this revelation. Though, Lance's impatience to know what was going on came through. He shot Hunk questioning glances and Hunk shrugged back, completely confused. Keith was now pouting in a comfortable corner seat, earbuds in. It would be hard for him to miss the wordless conversation taking place with eyebrows, head nods and hand gestures. Luckily, Keith tended to be clueless. However, Pidge is not. As the bus roared to life, they plop down across from Hunk and Lance, and say loudly, "What is your deal Lance?"

"Shhhhhhhhh." Lance cast a glance at Keith, "I just heard Adam refer to a member of the road crew as _Keith's new playmate."_ He stage whispered with adding air quotes to the last two words. Pidge is completely unaffected. "Firstly, gross." They say with a shrug. "Secondly, so what?"

Lance is nonplussed by this response. He, Pidge and Hunk often observe the evolving drama between various members of the road crew and entourage in the way the other people watch serial television programs. They have a strict policy of not getting involved. Absolutely no matchmaking allowed. Though they choose favourite 'ships and have been known to get into disagreements as to whom should be end game with whom. If Keith was hooking up with someone they would have been discussing it as part of their gossip. The three had relished in watching the painfully slow, and cringe-worthy courtship of Adam and Shiro.

"Um, Pidge, I think the question is who?" Lance finally sputters out.

Pidge and Hunk share a confused glance. "They're talking about Matt." Pidge says matter-of-factly.

Lance literally chokes on spit, "Keith is _boning_ Matt?"

Pidge's face falls in disgust, "Again, GROSS." They hiss at Lance. "You are talking about my brother. They are not _boning_. They've just been hanging out a lot."

Lance gives a confused look to his bandmates, "Since when?"

Hunk shrugs. "Dude, they have been hanging out more and more since half-way through the the North American leg of the tour."

Lance just stares back with his mouth open.

"Didn't you notice?" Hunk asks, clearly surprised.

"If you ask me it is a good thing." Pidge announces. "Matt is finally getting over his unhealthy obsession with Shiro."

"I don't know." Interjects Hunk impishly," I think they started out bonding over both of them missing Shiro. You know, once he and Adam finally got together."

The three collectively fall into silence as they look over at Shiro, who chooses that moment to look back at the group from his seat next to Adam. Shiro raises his eyebrows questioningly and tilts his head to the side. All three shrug back, faces as blank as they can make them. After a moment Adam draws Shiro's attention away, with a question, holding up a clipboard of the band's itinerary for the following week.

"Matt's not talking about him obsessively anymore." Pidge whispers loudly enough for them to hear. "He doesn't look like he's gonna cry each time Shiro and Adam touch hands or kiss. I think he is getting over it, and believe it or not Keith is helping.

"Maybe that is because Keith has some sense of what Matt was going through." Hunk says thoughtfully.

Lance is musing over Pidge's words. Pidge had not been on the "Shatt" bandwagon. Pidge felt that even though Shiro was kind, talented, buff and beautiful, he could not keep up with Matt intellectually. Lance actually believed that Pidge couldn't see anyone being good enough for their brother. Though they had a point, Matt had truly been pining, and it had been a bit hard to watch. But still...

"How does Matt even have time to hang out with Keith?" Lance asks, undeterred from his original investigation. He's still trying to figure out how he missed this development.

To Lance, the question seems reasonable. Matt took over the role of Production Manager from Sam (Pidge and Matt's Dad) who was recently hired onto the _Norlox's_ world tour. It was the kind of job you couldn't turn down. Norlox was the biggest thing in the universe right now. They were a gorgeous, gender fluid, alternative pop musician who played a blend of emo/punk rock, synth pop, and hip-hop. Honestly, Lance was a huge fan. Matt had been their sound technician since high school, and he is awesome at that. Like Pidge, he was a bit of a technical genius. He even messed around with their lighting design sometimes. So while Matt was the most qualified to fill his father's shoes, it left him with less time to play around with things he loved like lighting and sound equipment.

Both Hunk and Pidge looked at Lance like his question didn't even make sense.

Hunk ignored him and continued, "They're having a lot of fun together. They're working on this top secret thing call _Project Diva_." Hunk says the last two words in an awe filled whisper. Lance rolls his eyes. _Project Diva,_ whatever it was, sounded stupid. "That's why Keith is listening to all that new music Matt loaded on to his phone." Hunk adds.

Wait a minute. "Keith doesn't let people touch his phone." Lance says incredulously.

Pidge snorts, "Keith doesn't let _you_ touch his phone, because he doesn't want 6000 Lance selfies taking up all his memory. Nor does he want anyone to change all his contact names," they say pointedly, " _Loverboy_."

Lance was working his way up to an indignant response when Hunk said, "I think protecting one's phone in this band is just good sense, don't you Pidge? You know, because sometimes little gremlins change people's language settings to Swahili and download gross images from the coroner they follow on instagram."

Pidge snorted proudly. "She is so cool! This week she had pictures of people who died while…."

"Nope, Nope! Don't want to hear it!" Said Hunk, covering his ears.

They continued to banter until the bus pulls up to the border crossing into Switzerland.

Once they were back on the road, Lance ponders the new information he had heard today, stirring it around his head with other things that he is learning about Keith. He waited for Pidge to join Allura up front before restarting his conversation with Hunk.

"So, why didn't you tell me Keith made out with Lotor?"

Hunk face was a cross between sheepish and surprised. "How did you… erm… You didn't know?" He faltered.

Lance's mouth compressed into a line. "Keith told me. Aaand, obviously I didn't know, when everybody else did. Why is that?"

Hunk sighed, "Don't you remember, you didn't want anyone to talk about Grammy night. Every single time it came up you would cover your ears and sing lalalalalalalala like a kindergartener."

It was Lance's turn to look sheepish, but he wasn't going let Hunk off that easily. "Still, not wanting to talk about my embarrassing debauchery is one thing. I am always happy to hear embarrassing information about Keith." He said nudging Hunk good naturedly.

Hunk didn't smile back. "Lance, you felt terrible about that night." He said seriously, "Do you honestly think that hearing Keith made out with Lotor would have helped?"

Lance felt his face fall. Hunk was right, nothing about that felt good when he thought about it. He didn't even have an urge to tease Keith about it. "Yeah, you're right, that night sucked. It is all best forgotten."

Lance leaned into his friend's shoulder feeling comforted. Hunk hadn't been keeping secrets, he had been looking out for a friend.

Hunk leaned back, putting an arm around Lance. They sat in a companionable silence watching out the window for a while before Hunk said, "Dude, we are in Switzerland. We are playing a concert in Zurich tonight." Lance smiled. "Yeah." He nodded and said it again. "Yeah."

Life was good, Lance reminded himself. He was in a band made up of his best friends, travelling the world together. There was truly nothing more he could ask for, he reminded himself.

And he almost believed it.


	5. Chapter 5 - When We Were Young

**Hi all. First of all, I do not own Voltron OR The Legendary Defenders, or Altea or the Galra or any of these characters.**

 **Secondly, here is a nice long chapter to make up for last week's very short one.**

Guilty Pleasure - Chapter 5 - When We Were Young.

Lance had a decision to make.

He had gone through multiple options, scenarios, back up plans. He tried to analyze the potential outcomes, the drawbacks and possible fallout of any actions he could take in this moment.

Now he just had to make a decision.

He was lying on his back on his hotel room bed, staring, at the ceiling, absolutely still.

'C'mon' he mentally urged himself. 'At some point you are going to have to do something about this.' 'This,' his internal voice continued, 'Is one of those, do or die, sink or swim, kind of moments. You can't just stay stuck here forever.'

He was saved from his melodramatic, metaphorical self-lecture by Hunk coming in through the door between their adjoined rooms.

"Lance, man, you up? I heard your alarm, like, 15 minutes ago."

Lance didn't move, not even to turn his head toward Hunk. "Yeah, I am awake." He said tonelessly, absolutely motionless, arms askew, still sprawled on his back.

Hunk paused to look at him, his face forming a question. It was one of Hunk's most endearing facial expressions. His best perplexed look, where his brow was furrowed, eyes squinted and he pushed his lips to one side forming a dimple in his cheek.

"Sooooo…" Hunk said, waiting for Lance to explain his immobility. At some point Hunk had figured out that waiting for Lance to share-in his own time-the nuances of his complicated thought processes and their, often, non-linear relationship to his actions, was the best way to go.

"Hunk, man," Lance began, voice mostly steady, "There's a… a... dot up there, on the ceiling. Can you just take a peak, you know, see what it is?"

Hunks face had already relaxed into one of understanding. Without hesitation he walked directly under the point where Lance's eyes were unwaveringly focussed and squinted up to study the ten foot high ceiling of the old castle-turned hotel.

"It's just a little hole, from a screw or something." Hunk said kindly.

"Are you sure?" Lance was quick to ask. "I am positive I saw it move a minute ago." Just as Lance was almost convinced he could see a white hourglass shape on the back of the _moving_ black dot.

"I am sure Buddy." Hunk said with compassion, "But just to make certain..." he grabbed one of Lance's rolled up socks from the floor and threw it, with accuracy, at the spot over the bed. Lance simultaneously jumped up and flung his body backward against the headboard, just in case Hunk was wrong and the sock knocked something down on to Lance's person.

The sock came down and the spot stayed on the ceiling. There was a moment of stunned silence before Lance hopped out of bed and said, "Thanks man." Giving Hunk a back slapping good morning hug of gratitude. Who knows how long he would have been stuck there without his friend's help. "I could use a cup of coffee."

Lance was once again grateful for his long time relationship with Hunk, who would not tease him about his fear of spiders. To be honest, Lance wasn't one hundred percent certain he was still _really_ afraid of spiders. He didn't go to a place of mind numbing panic anymore. Now, he liked to think, he was just being cautious, out of habit. This morning, for instance, Lance was able to form several well thought out plans of how to deal with the situation on his own. Unfortunately he got caught up trying to determine which strategy to use.

They were all loaded up onto the bus by ten. Most of the band would probably sleep for part of the journey having not got to bed until 2AM the night before. Matt hadn't headed out with the crew earlier, but not to keep Keith happy (as Adam had joked before) but because their venue in Amsterdam had oversold tickets and he was strategizing with Shiro and Adam on how to deal with that situation.

Usually, Altea handled all ticket sales through their web marketing team, partnering up with local ticketing agents. This way they could provide early bird sales to local fans and try to prevent fans from having to buy tickets second hand through scalpers. Also, Slav was a bit of a control freak. Shiro had pushed back about this particular venue, which only sold tickets directly to the public. Shiro's gamble appeared to have backfired, because now they had to figure out what to do. They could cancel a portion of the sold tickets, upsetting many fans; they could try to add another show, to an already tightly packed schedule; or they could try to find another venue that could house everyone at this late notice. It was a logistical nightmare from every angle, and Lance was glad it wasn't his problem to solve.

In this part of Europe the band was not as big as they were back home, so they had been playing in smaller places, clubs and and some festivals. For the most part it had been really nice, even though the stages were smaller and they couldn't do their full light show. Lance couldn't help remembering their first tour, before Shiro's accident. They were so young and cocky. Their vibe was edgier then. There is something really personal about being in a small venue, so close to the audience that you could almost see people's faces when the lights are down.

That said, the nostalgia was starting to wear thin. Smaller venues meant smaller back stages to get ready in, and the band members were often on top of each other. They had gotten used to taking up more space, and their larger entourage, wardrobes and array of instruments left people grumbling and sniping. Well, mostly him and Keith were sniping at each other. To be fair, Keith hardly took up any room with _stuff_ , he just tended to need more personal space than anyone else in the band. To keep the peace, Keith had started getting ready on the bus, so he could be entirely alone if he wanted to be.

The thing is, Keith didn't always want to be alone. Lance noticed that Matt regularly joined him for part of his pre-show prep time. To be totally honest, Lance was actually quite happy to see Keith bonding with members of the team. Keith had always been a bit of a loner and Lance often felt that if someone were going to leave the band, it would be the dark haired guitarist. Keith's friendship with Matt, who had a vested interest in keeping the band together, with his sibling a core member, meant Keith was more bonded to the group overall. That said, Lance couldn't deny he felt twinges of an unnameable feeling when Matt dropped Keith's writing notebook in front of him at breakfast today saying. "These are really good, I made some notes with feedback. But I really love them, all of them."

Lance and Keith hadn't always written well together, but now, Lance really valued their writing relationship. It took a long time for Lance to learn to give Keith space and time to share what he was working on. As Lance learned patience, Keith learned to trust. Some of Lance's best memories with Keith included sitting alone on the bus, in the studio, in their hotel or living rooms, strumming back and forth on guitars, trying different chords to match lyrics they had written. Sometimes without instruments they would spend hours singing with each other, word-smithing lyrics, working out harmonies, keeping the beat by slapping their hands on their laps. If Keith was really in 'the zone' he would jump on the piano to weave together magical sounds that seemed to breathe as though they were alive.

When they were writing Lance learned about Keith. It was one of the only times Keith allowed himself to be vulnerable, and share deeper parts of himself. It was during one particular writing session that Keith encouraged Lance to ask out Allura, it was during another that Keith shared his fear of not being able to step into Shiro's shoes as lead guitarist. Those sessions were private and special, and Lance couldn't help but feel jealous that Keith was sharing his writing with someone else. The problem being that Lance knew if he pressured Keith to share what he was working on, it would only push Keith further away. Lance tried to steer clear of these reflections, because it always brought him back to one point, "Did I really screw everything up, just with one kiss?" Lance tried really hard not to think about that, because even now, looking back, he is not sure he would change it.

Lance was shaken out of his reverie by Shiro making a sound somewhere between clearing his throat and a growl. He had been on the phone with Slav for almost an hour now, without making any progress. Slav was still in the "I told you so." phase of the problem solving process, and thus, by the sound of it, no problems were being solved.

"Yes, I do recognize that." Shiro said politely, but his voice carrying an edge that, when directed at Lance, always made him stand taller and straighten his collar. "I don't understand why it is important that this booking is on a Wednesday." Shiro responded.

Lance heard a noise to the other side of him and looked to see Pidge watching Shiro with something akin to delight. Lance raised an eyebrow in question. Pidge leaned closer with a smirk, "This is where Slav outlines his original plan for 'optimal scheduling' and explains how Shiro caused this to happen by not following the carefully strategized trajectory that Slav developed for our European tour." Lance, looked between Pidge's delight and Shiro's darkening face.

"Yes Slav, I do remember the presentation about mid-week sales of concert tickets in Western Europe. I think _everybody_ remembers that particular powerpoint." Shiro's words were becoming more staccato as he ran a shaky hand through his bleached white hair. "However, _our_ team did not overbook the show, the venue did." Shiro suddenly held the phone a few inches from his head as Slav's voice could be heard full volume, explaining other important aspects that increased the odds of this booking going wrong. "We couldn't have booked for that weekend, the Reading and Leeds Festivals are that weekend." Shiro said exasperated. More muffled responses from Slav. "But they are on tour _this_ year!" Shiro said, voice strained, each word like a separate island in a sea of 'fuck you.'

Pidge was shaking with silent laughter beside Lance, who sat somewhat stunned at the unflappable Shiro shifting the phone from his good hand to the artificial one, and actually breaking into a sweat. Adam, also on the phone with said venue (the one that oversold the tickets) reached a comforting hand to Shiro. Adam massaged Shiro's neck as the distraught manager pinched the bridge of his own nose. Shiro glanced over at his boyfriend, and they shared a meaningful look.

Shiro took a deep shaky breath and said, "You are right Slav, I am extremely sorry that we did not take into consideration your statistical analysis of precipitation at festivals in the U.K. based on even numbered years versus odd. Obviously, based on that research, we should have skipped those festivals this year." Shiro could help but eye roll as he said this, but his voice didn't waver. "Next time we will defer to your expertise on matters such as this." This seemingly placated the man on the other end of the phone. Shiro sighed and continued, "I would be grateful if you could help us sort this out."

Lance glanced back at Pidge, noting their gleeful expression. "Better than television." They whispered, enunciating each word carefully. Their eyes bright, nodding their head back across the aisle. "It's not over yet."

Now that Shiro's conversation had calmed down, Adam's was getting more intense. "Yes, thank you again for explaining how the error happened. I think we are more concerned about how _you_ are going to deal with it." Adam's expression was carefully schooled as he listened to the other end of the conversation. "Yes, how is that our responsibility? Our contract states…" He stops abruptly. "Yes, I would appreciate not being interrupted. We can do an additional show at your venue earlier in the day, at your expense given that…" More urgent chatter on the other end of the line. "Please, again, allow me to finish. It may be best for you to cancel that, since you made this mistake with _our_ booking." Adam deadly calm increases as the conversation continues.

"Wow!" Pidge whispers, "It is like he gets more polite, the more intense emotion he feels." They say in awe.

"Yeah." Responds Lance, equally impressed. "Both him and Shiro are so calm and collected even though they are thoroughly pissed off. Can you imagine Keith trying to deal with something like this?"

Pidge both shudders and guffaws at the thought. "Yeah, that conversation would have been over and the phone thrown out the window." They respond. Lance looks back at the couple, still both on the phone.

"I wonder if they are this polite when they have sex?" Pidge muses aloud. Lance is shocked, he can actually feel his ears burn. He looks back to Pidge and realizes they are not being crass, they are genuinely curious, in the same way they wonder _what dark matter is_.

Lance, however, does not want to know the answer to that question. At some point Shiro went from gorgeous-guy-to-crush-on to father-figure. Lance now feels intensely awkward at the thought of Shiro having sex. He actually squirms in his seat.

Pidge must of noticed, because they raise an eyebrow and immediately draw Hunk into the conversation. Throughout the proceeding exchange Hunk has been very focussed on his phone, texting back and forth with Shay. Pidge kicks him to get his attention, and says mischievously "What do you think? Are Shiro and Adam all Victorian and polite when they are doing the nasty?"

Pidge's choice of words indicates they are _definitely_ trying to poke fun at Lance, who covers his ears and says in a high pitched voice, "I don't think we should really talk about this."

Hunk must've been paying more attention than he let on, because he answers immediately. "I was more wondering about when _they_ argue." He glances up from the screen in front of him. "I mean, it must be like a cold war." He whispers, leaning in. "No yelling or door slamming, just really, really, polite disagreement." He leans back again, eyes wide and full of meaning.

Lance squirms again, because that picture is _really_ _weird_. Lance comes from a hot-blooded latino family. Everything they do, they do big, they do loud. He ponders the cultural and personality differences. He wonders how that must look from the outside, to people who relate differently. He wonders how _he_ must look from the outside to introverts like Keith.

Hunk seems to understand Lance's reaction, "Weird right?" Hunk says and Lance nods. Pidge shrugs, less impacted by the thought. Her family operates differently than Lance's does. The Holts have family meetings, they 'talk things out' and even vote on specific household issues. The Holts tend to be more 'rational' and intellectualize a lot. Pidge can be pretty squirmy when big feelings are at play, but they work through emotions, and they don't get as overwhelmed by them as someone like Keith does.

"Imagine Shiro, Adam and _Allura_ having an argument." Hunk ponders aloud. This time Pidge does shudder. "We would need a thesaurus of sarcastic pleasantries." They say eyes wide, and just a little bit wistful.

Lance catches the look, but responds with, "Oh, Allura has a temper, we've _all_ seen it. Remember how she acted when Keith and I broke that light? And when we were going out…" He shook his head, letting out a breath with bemused smile and didn't finish.

"Not so much anymore." Pidge said softly. "She mostly reacted like that because she was worrying about the band's image and keeping up with running company while being on tour. She was scared it would end up as a blown out of proportion tabloid story on the Galra site. That reaction was more stress than anger."

"Could've fooled me." said Lance quietly. The mood had changed, and become a little heavy. Hunk shrugged and looked back down at his phone. Lance watched Pidge thoughtfully. They looked back, giving a look that said, 'what can you do?' and pulled out their own phone.

Lance understood the shift in their vibe in relation to the discussion. Allura had changed a lot over the time they had known her. In reality, they all had changed and grown, but Allura most notably. Maybe the nostalgia of playing smaller venues was reminding all of them of simpler times.

They had started playing together in high-school, at first just Lance, Pidge and Hunk played for fun. Shiro had been Lance's guitar teacher and he joined the band the first time he saw them live, dragging Keith along.

Allura moved to their town during their last year of high school. She was a prim and proper rich girl, who had only been to private schools up until that point. Lance had fallen in love instantly and decided his group of misfits were just the crowd for her. For some reason, she accepted Lance's invitation to one of their practices, and just kept coming. Hanging with the group loosened her up, let her relax. Early on, she joked about being their manager and knowing the music industry because her Dad owned Altea Records. It was fun, and they were just kids. She booked them into their first real gigs and when it became clear they actually had a possible future playing together her Dad took notice. On paper Allura was their manager, but her Dad made certain Coran was always around to mentor her and keep an eye out, because the music industry is a tough business.

Also, Lance learned later, Alfor (Allura's Dad) had enemies. He had started Altea with his good friend Zarkon and they made a promise to stay in touch with music, to respect the talent, to stay family focussed and not get overwhelmed by the money. They had one really big client at the beginning, and they were doing pretty well. But something happened, and Zarkon left with their main client. Alfor had to struggle to keep the label alive, but he managed to do it and stay true to his values. Eventually Zarkon lost his major client and his own label. He had become known in the industry as pretty ruthless, so nobody was surprised when he shifted to media and started his own music gossip rag - "The Galra Press". For the longest time The Legendary Defenders were beneath notice of Zarkon's nasty newspaper and web presence. But after their first album and tour, they were became more of a target. Zarkon often attempted to make the lives of Altea's talent miserable, but he seemed to be exceptionally motivated to go after TLD.

At the time, they were young, they had their first taste of fame and money. Shiro, always responsible in all aspects of his life, had developed a taste for racing stock cars. He wasn't doing anything big, just small tracks in a car he and Keith had built together. Lance sometimes wondered if Shiro had started racing just to create a new hobby for him and Keith to bond over now that playing guitar had become their full time job. Zarkon's wife Haggar wrote multiple nasty articles about Shiro being a "spoiled, rich, dangerous, racing, rockstar." It got worse when Keith started driving too. But (at least in Shiro's case) the articles were completely unfounded.

That is why it was such a shock when they got the news that Shiro had gotten into an accident on the twisting roads of Highway 138 at Kerberos corner. The highway is known for being dangerous, but Shiro is a notedly careful and skilled driver. Despite there being an inquiry, no wrongdoing was ever found. That didn't stop "The Galra Press" from reporting that it was 'pig-headed recklessness on behalf of the careless and entitled musician' that caused the accident. The magazine implied that Shiro had been illegally street racing and 'thank goodness nobody else was hurt.'

They all grew up a bit after that happened. Lance, who deferred readily to Shiro as first guitarist, desperately wanted to fill his shoes. However, when Keith picked up Shiro's black Gibson Standard, and played a hollow riff of mourning for his friend and foster brother, Lance knew that the best thing for the band was stand down. Keith had expressed reservations, but Lance had quelled them to the best of his ability. He needed Keith to stay, to take Shiro's place. He needed this band together.

Allura had taken over Lance's role as bass player without a bat of an eye. Lance had stepped into being Keith's right hand with a heavy heart, new maturity and a sprinkling of his good natured optimism.

Suddenly being in a band wasn't all fun and partying. This was their job. After Shiro's accident, that job took on new meaning. Allura was the first one to voice wanting to use their new found fame and status for good. But everybody else had been thinking it. The first benefit they ever played was to raise money to build a home for abused women. It was the first of many. They now had a protocol of how to respond to requests for support. Altea Records created a charitable foundation and The Legendary Defenders took the lead in supporting causes by talking about them, singing about them and donating money to them.

Shiro became the band's manager, almost without looking back. Lance often wondered how hard it would be to lose his own ability to make music, and he knew he would not return with the grace that Shiro did. It still filled Lance with an uncomfortable sadness to think about what Shiro lost that night on the road. It wasn't just a limb, it was part of his identity.

Lance liked to think that through staying together; playing, writing and touring, they all became newer, better versions of themselves. Allura enjoyed sharing the stage with the rest of the band, and she went back to laughing and joking with the group. Her and Lance got closer and Lance thought he had snatched a little piece of heaven. He had his band, his girl, and his future carved out in front of him. Allura seemed so happy for that short time, she seemed to glow with life, and their chemistry came across on stage. He and Keith wrote a duet for the two of them which sold better than any other single on their second album. It became the wedding song of the season, and Lance dreamed that one day they would play it at their own.

Nobody expected to be called back from their second tour to Alfor's bedside. Allura lost her father and the band lost their boss, friend and mentor. It wasn't long before Allura ended things with Lance. She felt strongly about staying in the band, but she felt equally dedicated to keeping her father's legacy alive. "It's just all too much." She had said. Altea Records supported the careers of a multitude of musicians and staff. It was an example in the industry for dealing with their talent with integrity.

While it was hard for Lance to give up having Allura as a partner, for him, having his _second family_ , his band together, meant everything. He poured all those emotions into making music. He and Keith writing together constantly. It was clear they were using the writing process to work through their own stuff. Their music changed, became more layered and mature. Lance learned that this was how Keith dealt with everything difficult in his own life. Keith didn't hash stuff out with his friends, or gossip to avoid thinking about it. Keith didn't argue with his family. Keith holed up into a place of solitude, found something to punch or played the guitar, worked out and wrote songs. Lance followed his lead and still doesn't know what he would have done if he hadn't had Keith to write with at that time. But, Lance couldn't really think about _that_ right now. He decided that there were more pressing matters at hand. Pidge was right. Since taking over Altea, Allura rarely laughed without reserve, she didn't joke with or teasingly lecture her bandmates. Her face bore the strain of responsibility and her voice often had an edge, stress laced through it. Lance missed the old Allura and their old relationship, but now, listening to Pidge he realized the impact on other members of the band.

Pidge and Allura had gotten pretty close over the years. During the first tour, when Pidge struggled with dysphoria, and would sometimes literally throw clothing out of the bus. Allura was always the one to calm them down. Allura offered empathy, listened, clarified, and found clothing that Pidge would feel comfortable playing in; being in front of a crowd in. Allura went over each press release and, with Shiro, made sure to brief every interviewer so they understood how to speak appropriately when talking to Pidge about being non-binary. It didn't mean Pidge never got asked stupid or difficult questions, but it meant they knew the band and Altea records were one hundred percent behind them, however they choose to respond to those questions.

Lance looked over at Pidge and then up to the front of the bus at Allura and mused. Pidge was playing a game on their phone. Shiro and Adam were now finished their calls and strategizing quietly with one another. Matt, who had been trying to sort out a stage set-up at a possible different venue had run his hands through his hair so many times that it now stood out at impossible angles making him look like a stressed-out, awkwardly-handsome, treasure-troll. Hunk had moved to the back of the seating area to have privacy to Facetime with Shay. It sounded like a really deep and intense conversation. Keith was in the back in one of the bunks. If you listened carefully you could hear the strumming of a guitar over the hum of the engine, so Lance suspected that Keith was actually writing.

Lance sighed and watched Allura some more as she went through what appeared to be financial files on her computer. Her brow was furrowed and a there was a small frown playing on her lips. Something in Lance's energy must have indicated he was up to something because Pidge shot him a questioning glance. He gave them a small smile of mischief before calling out, "Whatcha doing there _Princess_?" It was an old nickname. Lance hadn't used it in well over a year. So, it wasn't really a surprise that it took Allura a moment to realize Lance was actually talking to _her_. It took her even longer to process the question.

"Ummm… Pardon me?" Allura said, looking confused.

"Whatcha doing?" Lance asked, putting as much playful whimsy as he could into his voice.

Allura was not amused. "Lance," She said, all uptight and busy like. "The quarterly reports are due at the end of this month. I need to look over all of these numbers."

"Hmmmmm," Said Lance, who only had a basic idea of what was included in Altea's quarterly reports, or even what one was. "Sounds fascinating. Care to share with me and Pidge? We can look at it with you."

Allura looked perturbed, not taking Lance seriously at all. But Pidge was already clearing the seat to their other side, carelessly stacking and repositioning a number of books papers and a tablet. "Yeah, c'mon over." Pidge gestured to the now empty spot.

Allura looked at Shiro, who shrugged at her. She picked up her laptop and moved to sit with Lance and Pidge.

Lance was now presented with a screen filled with multiple tabs all displaying graphs and numbers that look like a different language. "What are we looking at?" He said with false bravado.

"Well," Said Allura, "I am having some trouble here." She clicked on a tab. "This is our current receivable balance. But it is not matching up with this number here." She shifted forward to another tab. Lance had no idea why the numbers were supposed to match, where they came from, or what they meant. But Pidge immediately pushed their glasses up their nose and leaned into the screen and said "Hmmmm."

"I have double checked all existing and expected incoming income sources with accounting back home, and they stand by that number." Allura said seriously, presenting other tabs containing, what Lance guessed was back-up documentation."However our accounts indicate this is what we expect to be deposited and this is what is actually owed."

"So either someone is paying too much, or we have forgotten to bill someone and they are paying anyway." Pidge said reasonably.

"I do hope it is something like that." Allura responds.

Lance nodded, trying to look like he understood whatever that meant.

"It is only about $150,000." Pidge says. "Not a huge error, given our operating numbers."

Lance casually drank from his water bottle, thinking, $150,000 still sounds like a lot of money, maybe that's just him.

"Yes," Said Allura, "But we work with a lot of smaller scale studios, businesses and musicians. That difference would be very large for most of them."

"Right, of course!" Said Lance suddenly and awkwardly, drawing both their gazes for a moment. Then they both looked back at the screen as though he hadn't spoken.

"Why aren't the automated systems, like the online music sales separated from the revenues from smaller studios?" Pidge asked, nose crinkled.

"I wondered _exactly_ the same thing." Said Allura, "I also thought that it could be categorized more clearly. But I understand that even the smaller studios have web sales business that we get proceeds from. It is hard to break it all down." Suddenly she pulled up another few screens. "Oh, and these are our tour incomes, they are divided into ticket sales and merchandise."

"Hmmm." Said Pidge again.

Lance gave up pretending he could help, standing he waved, "Clearly you both have this covered. As much as I would like to help, I think my expertise is needed elsewhere." He announced importantly.

They barely spared him a glance.

He wandered to the back of the bus and listened at one of bunk doors. He could still hear the strum of a guitar and the soft croon of a voice. He knocked more quietly than he usually would, fearing he actually was interrupting something, the strumming stopped.

"Yup." Keith called. Ever the conversationalist.

Lance poked his nose in the door. "Hey." He said nervously. "Um, I am trying to find a stress free hang out zone." He observed Keith sitting on a bed holding a guitar. "Any chance you could provide a wayward soul with some refuge."

Keith didn't look upset, and Lance counted that as a plus. Keith gave a small turn of his head to beckon Lance in, and Lance ducked through the door, a bit weak with relief.

Keith moved to put the guitar aside.

"No, no, no." Lance said, "I don't want to interrupt."

Keith shrugged, "I was pretty much done anyway." He said, packing the guitar into its case and siding it into storage compartment underneath the bed.

Lance turned his head to pull off his shoes, hoping by the time he looked back his face was schooled enough to hide his disappointment.

Keith leaned against the headboard, back resting on a pillow as Lance makes himself comfortable facing him from the other end of the bed. The curtains in the large window next to the bed were open showing the countryside zipping by.

"So," Keith started, "They haven't got it sorted out yet?"

"No." Lance sighed. "We potentially have a new venue, but the existing venue is being very shitty. Without their help, we don't even know who has tickets."

Keith gave a wry smile, "I'll bet Slav is giving Shiro palpitations." Something about Keith's expression indicating that he found the interaction between the two men humorous.

"Yeah." Lance smiled, "It was pretty funny to watch him talk Slav down without bursting a blood vessel." He said, giving Keith a playful sideways kick. "You shouldn't be enjoying that though. What about family loyalty?"

Keith looks nonplussed as he kicks, _a little bit harder_ , back. "What are we now? The mafia?"

Lance reaches out and grabs Keith's foot to pull him from a sitting position onto his back, "Loyalty is important man. It is the backbone of human society." He says, trying to stick his big toe in Keith's armpit, wiggling it in an attempt to tickle him.

Keith retaliates by sticking his socked foot into Lance's face. 'Why do you always say stuff like that?" Keith said wiggling his sock covered toes against Lance's nose. "Just last week you said _well-made tacos_ were the backbone of human society."

Lance scoffs at Keith's assertion that the two statements couldn't be true at the same time. But the foot in his face left him sputtering on his caustic reply, while working to flip Keith. Unfortunately, Lance doesn't have enough leverage, only having access one of Keith's legs. Keith, already two steps ahead, has used his other leg and his ridiculous flexibility to push himself into a sitting position, pillow in hand. He pulls his foot out of Lance's face, and before Lance can get up Keith swats him solidly in the head.

Lance sputters rolling away from Keith and tries to make a dive for the other pillow. But Keith is faster. Now Keith, weapons in each hand, pummels Lance's head from both sides. Unfortunately for Keith and fortunately for Lance, Keith is laughing so hard, that Lance is able to wrest one pillow away from him.

It is a very tight space to wrestle in, but they wallop each other with pillows until they are both exhausted from exertion and laughter.

"I win." Says an out of breathe Keith, falling to his side on the mattress.

"Says who?" Lance argues, making a half-hearted swat with the the pillow still in his hand. Keith blocks the shot.

"Says everybody." Keith sighs, static filled hair around his face. He shoves the pillow under his head. "I always win."

"Nobody says that." Lance protests, lowering down as well, putting his own pillow under his own head and facing Keith.

Keith just scoffs, eyes closing, lips upturned ever so slightly. In seconds he is asleep.

Lance watches him. His messy hair a dark halo around his head. His eyelashes resting on porcelain skin. Now he can see the lines of exhaustion on Keith's face and he worries. Lance is conflicted, he feels a relief and a contentment that him and Keith seem to be reconnecting after their weirdness. But he also feels a longing that he doesn't want to investigate. He could fall asleep here with Keith, and part of him really wants to. However, the longing he feels makes him uneasy and he is too grateful for their tenuous reconnection to put it at risk. He pulls himself off the bed and puts on his shoes to head back out to the front of the bus.

Hunk has now drifted off against the window in his seat. There is a small bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. Lance passes without stopping. The atmosphere at the front of the bus has changed, become even more urgent. Pidge is alone in their previously shared spot. Allura, Adam, and Shiro, are all wearing their phone headsets, talking to different people, taking turns pacing the aisle. Matt is staring dejectedly at the now completed equipment and stage plan he had been working on.

"What's going on?" Lance whispers to Pidge, dropping into the seat beside them.

"We figured out where the extra money is coming from." Pidge says dryly, assessing Lance's disheveled appearance without comment.

"And…?" Lance asks as he watches Allura stab a pencil into her bun with undo violence.

"It's _this_ show, they didn't just over sell it a little bit." Pidge stopped, distracted as Allura, displeased with something she has heard from her phone call, pulls the pencil out of her hair and breaks it in half.

"Go on." Lance said, feeling dread.

"They almost triple booked it. That is why they didn't want to share the list of ticket holders with us. The other venue isn't going to be big enough either." Pidge gestures to Matt looking forlornly at his work.

"Oh, shit."


	6. Chapter 6 - Emotional Rescue

Guilty Pleasure: Chapter 6 - Emotional Rescue

 **I don't own Voltron or any of these characters.**

"I don't like this." Allura said staring out the front windshield, to no one in particular as the bus pulled up beside the Ziggo Dome. Out front the electronic billboard announced, "Tonight: NORLOX with special guests _The Legendary Defenders_!"

Perhaps she was actually talking to Shiro, because he was the one who answered. "I don't see what choice we have, this is as perfect a solution as we are going to get."

Sam was already standing at the loading doors as they pulled up to the back of the building. Both Pidge and Matt were off the bus as soon as the doors opened, and a big family group hug ensued. Lance quickly stepped to the side, knowing Hunk was behind him, keen to get in on some hugging action. Adam also climbed out, intending to meet with the Tour Manager for Norlox. Lance was holding back, curious to hear the rest of the exchange between Shiro and Allura.

'Your desire for caution is understandable." Coran said kindly as he switched off the ignition. He turned toward Allura rubbing his hands together. Lance guessed it was to increase the blood flow from driving for so long, but the gesture gave the impression that Coran was about to jump into action. "Norlox's management and the owners of their label did used to work with Zarkon. But they left before his downfall. Likely they discovered he was malevolent and untrustworthy." Allura looked sideways at Coran, eyes creased with worry and the deeper emotions that came up whenever Zarkon was mentioned. " Remember, my dear, you father worked with him at one time as well. That, in itself, is not an indication of lack of character." He said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I am worried about trusting these people." She said, seriously. "I am also worried about what Zarkon is going to write about this mix up with the club and The Legendary Defenders going from headliners to a warm up act. Which is exactly how he'll spin it!" She said preemptively, when Shiro opened his mouth to argue. "We have barely made a dent in the European market, this was our big chance. The tour has only begun and bad press is the last thing we need."

"That is not the way I see it. We are building bridges in industry, making allies." Shiro said earnestly. "Remember Allura, they didn't have to help us." He finished seriously, brow furrowed with concern at Allura's negative view of the deal they had made. "Indeed," Coran agreed, "When we focus on the collaboration between the musicians, their management, it is a feel good story about cooperation in what is considered a cut throat industry. Infact," He said, punctuating his thought with a raised finger. "Having collaboration between people who have survived working with Zarkon makes the story sweeter, if you ask me. _Juicier,_ as my Great Uncle Washington would say." Coran finished with a wink and a knowing smile.

Allura glanced between the two men, both meeting her eyes with empathy. Coran's face more openly kind, Shiro's with a quiet stoicism. She must have found the reassurance she was looking for, because she took a deep breath and stood taller before descending the stairs of the bus, murmuring. "I still have reservations, but you are correct in saying it is the best option available at this time." She seemed to become more stately each step she descended. By the time she reached the bottom stair, any external evidence of her doubts had vanished and she wore the confidence of a warrior. Shiro straightened as though in response to her repose. He met Coran's eyes before turning, them both following her out the door.

When Matt had called his father for support in a moment of sheer frustration, Sam had jumped into action. It turned out that Norlox was also in Amsterdam, finishing their second of two shows. Sam brokered a deal between the two management teams. The solution couldn't have come at a better time. Things had gotten very tight. The road crew for TLD had been sitting in Amsterdam unable to unload or set up. They had been driving all night. It was a bad situation.

Norlox hadn't sold out the second night booking in Amsterdam. Luckily they had enough seats to house the 3000 fans holding tickets to The Legendary Defenders concert. Radio stations had been announcing that ticket holders who had purchased entrance to TLD's smaller venue would have their tickets honoured at the Norlox show. Somewhere, someone named Leifsdottir was sorting out how to assign the unsold stadium seats to The Legendary Defenders' fans.

Lance wasn't sure why he remembered _that_ random piece of information, perhaps it was because he liked the name. He'd said over and over again after he heard it, in different voices. Until Pidge whacked him with a fly swatter, a laptop case and a ukulele songbook (in that order). He actually didn't stop because of the abuse, he got distracted looking at the songbook. It was a compilation of Beatle songs. Then, before he knew it, they were here at the venue.

Lance had to admit he was nervous, he was about to meet one of his current idols, but was also antsy from all the stress of the day. He was definitely picking up the intensity of mixed emotions from his bandmates and could feel all of this buzzing through his veins. His body literally was vibrating with energy. To give himself a moment to calm down, he paused to fix his hair in the rearview mirror of the bus and straighten the collar of his trademark green jacket. He took a few moments to pose, holding his index finger and thumb at different angles around his chin while winking at himself and running through an internal pep talk. He realized that it wasn't so _internal_ when he heard Keith behind him say, " _What_ are you _doing_?"

"Ahem," Lance said turning, feeling the warm tingle of embarrassment on his face. Nevertheless, he adopted the tone of someone speaking to a very slow learner, "Keith, I am preparing. I need to be in peak form when I greet my fans. It would be cruel to disappoint them." Keith exhaled in what might be a scoff, or a laugh. "Do you mind if I pass?" Keith gestured with the guitar case in his hand, "While you finish your _preparations_?" he said with characteristic sarcasm.

If Lance didn't know Keith better, if they hadn't spent the last 7 years working out their shit, he would have have been more defensive in his embarrassment. However, when he caught Keith's slightly upturned lips and the glint of humour in his eyes, Lance, like always, decided to take things a step further. He shot Keith a playful look and grinned, "Sorry man, I gotta get out there quick." He thumbed towards the door. " It has been hard enough for my many, _many_ , dedicated admirers to wait for _this perfection_ as it is." he said gesturing to himself before turning and bouncing down the stairs.

Pidge and Hunk were talking enthusiastically to members of their crew who had come out of the building. Even Allura seemed to be getting a little excited, at very least she was happy to see friendly faces. It had been over a month since they had played a Stadium show, and meeting Norlox was actually a pretty big deal. Matt was already halfway through the entrance door talking a mile a minute with Sam about figuring out the set up and changes that would need to be made to work with Norlox's equipment and staff. Matt was so intensely involved in his conversation with Sam, that Lance was surprised when he interrupted his Dad with, "Just one sec." and doubled back to Keith, who was taking his time, only just now, sauntering off the bus.

'Hey, man, you nervous?" he said quietly, with a comforting pat on Keith's shoulder.

"A bit." Keith said, not meeting Matt's eyes, but looking to the side. Lance noticed that Keith did look rather uncomfortable. His brow was furrowed, he was paler than usual, and he was moving in a stiff and stilted way, rather than with his usual grace.

Matt fell beside Keith, shifting his hand to the middle of his back. His nexts words were in a encouraging tone, but said quietly enough that Lance couldn't hear them. As they passed Lance, Matt caught Shiro's eye and the men shared a meaningful look. Shiro seemed to take over and stepped in at Keith's other side. Matt running to catch up with his Dad once he seemed certain Keith was in good hands.

OKAY? What is _that_ about?

It is not like Shiro hadn't 'handled' Keith before. There were lots of situations where Shiro or others stepped in, when they knew Keith, or another member of the team, needed extra support.

The question was, What is bugging Keith?

Was he nervous about meeting Norlox?

Unlikely.

Keith cared little about the level of a person's fame. He was actually pretty embarrassing, often meeting people and not having a clue who the were until someone told him. He was equally awkward with all new people; rich, famous, talented or otherwise.

Unfortunately, Lance didn't get too long to think about it, they were being whisked into the building, sent in different directions. An hour later they were doing a sound check. There were tons of technical issues to sort out, and changes to be made to many aspects of the show.

Everybody was becoming grumpy. The crew would have slept after unloading, but didn't have a place to unload until mid-day. So, _they_ were tired. Allura was clearly still stressed about Zarkon's old colleagues, and was, _very politely_ being a bossypants. Pidge just wanted them to get finished so they could help their Dad and Matt. They mentioned this _every 5 minutes_. Hunk was trying to make people feel better and getting snapped at for his efforts. That left him looking sad and confused. Lance would have given Hunk a supportive a hug if he, himself, wasn't super irritated with Keith. The lead guitarist was so distracted that he kept coming in at the wrong points when they ran through a number. His playing was choppy and the sounds they were creating were making Lance's teeth hurt.

"Jesus Keith, you wrote this FUCKING song. It is supposed to be a ballad. It is supposed to FLOW. Why are you playing it like you're punching something?" Lance shot out, after a particularly bad run through of their latest single.

Keith was running his hand down his face, in a way that often ended with a caustic remark and him storming off. He muttered something about punching that had Lance puffing up and stepping toward him, in a way that he hadn't responded to Keith in _years_. "What did you say?" He demanded. That's when Shiro stepped in, one hand in a gesture universally understood as "stop" toward Lance. The other hand restraining Keith's elbow, incase the interruption did not prevent him from blowing.

"Enough guys. It's been a stressful day for all of us." He said, meeting each of their eyes. "Let's head back to the hotel, get a shower, get some food and come back with clearer heads."

'Thank you!" Pidge said emphatically. Removing their mic and scrambling for the stage stairs. Shiro stopped them before they could take off, "Look, I know you want to bond over technical stuff with your family, but _please_ remember to take a breather and EAT." Shiro said in a firm, but gentle voice. "Yes sir." Pidge said, rolling their eyes, but with words that held warmth.

Shiro murmured something to Keith who followed him off stage. Allura sighed deeply, placing her bass on a stand and taking off her own mic, before heading directly to Coran who was going over the 'quarterly report' on her laptop to stage left. Lance stood for a moment, guitar strap over his shoulder, watching everybody go, still a little surprised at his volatile behaviour. He turned to look at Hunk, who sat defeated behind his trademark gold drums. Lance immediately felt guilty. He had also snapped at Hunk during the run through. Hunk looked tired and really sad.

"Hey man," Lance started, "Sorry about the way I talked to you just now."

Hunk heaved a huge sigh, and looked up at Lance. To Lance's surprise, Hunk's eyes looked shiny, like he might cry. Lance scrambled to untangle himself from the equipment as he headed toward his friend. "Dude, you okay? It's just a shit day. Nothing personal, right?"

Hunk sighed again. "Yeah, man, I just hate it when everybody gets all… stressy like that."

"I know, me too. I guess I didn't help much." Lance said, reflecting on his snarling comments to Keith.

"It's not just that." Hunk said. "I got into this fight with Shay and I am just bummed about it."

"Oh." Lance said, surprised. He couldn't really imagine Hunk and Shay fighting, but he guessed it is something normal couples just do. 'Anything you want to talk about?"

"No, man." Hunk breathed "Not really."

Lance made a facial expression of acceptance and then said, "Wanna go see if the hotel has a make your own sundae bar?"

Hunk smiled, tired but warm, tension leaking out of him already. "Yeah. Let's do that." He said getting up and patting Lance on the back.

They went backstage and headed toward the doors they had entered through when they caught up with Keith and Shiro. The brothers were speaking to a stunningly tall woman who stood outside one of the office doors. Her dark hair was stylishly cut around her face and the locks were highlighted with purple tips.

"OMG" Lance said, his hand flinging out in front of Hunk to stop him in his tracks. "That's KROLIA!"

"Huh?" Hunk said, not having noticed the women in front of them, "No, you can't be… OH MY GOD!" Hunk's eyes blew wide at the legendary 90s rock star in front of them. "That's Krolia." He stage whispered to Lance. Who was nodding at him emphatically.

They were close enough now to hear the conversation. Which made no sense at all to Lance.

"I am so sorry we missed you in Zurich Keith" Krolia was saying. "We stayed as long as our schedule would allow."

"The bus broke." Keith said awkwardly.

"Um, Yes, we had some technical difficulties that delayed us that day." Shiro added.

"Well I am very grateful we will have this opportunity to work together and maybe we'll get a chance to talk." Krolia said directly to Keith, a small hopeful smile playing at her lips.

"HEY!" Lance interrupted, when he couldn't contain himself anymore. "You are Krolia!" Lance blurted out gesturing at the woman.

Ouch, he was fanboying badly. He could save this.

"Which you already know. Of course!" He said, smoothly. He hoped.

"What I meant to say is that you are amazing and we love you."

There was a moment's pause where Keith, Shiro and Krolia stared open mouthed at Lance.

Yeah. Not so smooth.

"And by we, I mean me and my friend Hunk." He said gesturing at the totally awestruck man to his side.

Another small awkward pause.

"Me being Lance, I'm Lance."

"I'm in their band." Lance finished lamely, pointing to Keith and Shiro.

Krolia smiled warmly at Lance. "I am aware of who you are." She said, humour lacing every word. "Krolia was my stage name. I go by Kara." She said, reaching out to shake Lance's hand and then Hunk's.

"Awesome." Said Hunk in a high pitched voice as she released her hold.

"I am Norlox's manager." Krolia, er Kara continued.

"Wait. What now?" Lance asked, flummoxed. " _You_ manage Norlox?!"

Kara smiled, about to continue when Lance again interrupted, "You used to work with Zarkon?!"

Kara's face shuttered, the warmth disappearing like the sun behind storm clouds.

"Yes, a long time ago I worked for… with… that... man." She said, her lips tight and her mouth small. She sighed, drawing herself up, and continued, "I have to get some things completed before the show." She gestured to the door behind her. "We'll see you back here at 7? You can meet Norlox before you go on." She smiled again, but it seemed forced compared to her previous expression.

They all said goodbye.

Hunk's face was still euphoric as they headed to the back door. Keith sped ahead and Lance ran to catch up with him, leaving Shiro to make sure Hunk didn't float away on a cloud.

"Dude," He exclaimed, "You know KROLIA? How could you have never mentioned this before?"

"I don't really _know_ her." Keith said, staring forward and speed walking toward the doors.

"Looked like she knew _you._ " Lance countered slamming through the door harder than he intended. The late afternoon sun was still bright after the artificially lit halls of the stadium and Lance had to squint his eyes as he turned to Keith, who avoided his gaze.

"Seriously, what was that about? You know we _love_ her and you were going to meet her in Zurich? _And you didn't tell us_?" Lance demanded.

"Lance, it's not..." Keith ran his hand through his hair in frustration several times. "It's not like we're _friends_."

Lance stood perturbed for a moment before saying. "She seemed pretty friendly."

Keith's face crumpled and his shoulders fell and he looked so broken suddenly that Lance wanted to reach out to comfort him.

"She knew my dad, okay?" Keith said in a small voice.

Lance sobered. Keith rarely ever talked about his dad. Most of what Lance knew about the man that Keith had lost at such a young age was from a deeply personal and hauntingly beautiful ballad Keith had written about him. The song was beautiful, but they had never recorded it, because Keith struggled with sharing something that vulnerable and personal with the world.

"Oh." Lance's word was barely a breath so he continued with. "Yeah, man, cool. She knew your dad. That's cool."

Keith took a shaky sigh, once again ran a hand through his already messy hair and climbed up onto the bus.

Hunk and Shiro finally made it out the doors. "I just met Krolia." Hunk said dreamily.

"You sure did." Shiro said, barely containing a shit eating grin.

"Do you think she liked me?" A starry eyed Hunk asked seriously.

"What's not to love?" Shiro responded with glee.


	7. Chapter 7 - We Don't Talk Anymore

Guilty Pleasure Chapter 7

We Don't Talk Anymore

 **I do not own Voltron, The Legendary Defenders or any of the characters portrayed in this fiction. *If I every get another cat, I probably will name them after one of the Lions.**

 **See end notes for Matt's most recent play list for Keith**

Lance lounged by the pool listening to the impromptu party inside the bar of the hotel. He toyed with a warm, half-full, pint glass of beer. "Real beer." as Hunk called it. The drummer was treating this trip as a 'culinary exploration' and was encouraging Lance to try local food and drinks at every stop point. Tonight Lance wasn't into it. The party, the food, the people, the fun. It was so out of character, Lance felt his own face, to see if he had a fever. Maybe he was coming down with something.

Despite the dreadful lead up, the concert had been an unmitigated success. Lance was burned out from the emotional exertion from the day. He knew his bandmates were noticing that he wasn't himself. Honestly, he didn't want to worry them, but tonight he couldn't force himself to go back into the festivities.

So here he was, resting in a pool lounger, distractedly swirling his warm beer and trying to figure out the unsettled feeling he couldn't quite shake. If Hunk weren't inside catching up with Sam, taste testing craft beers and bite sized portions of ' _bitterballen_ ' Lance would have snagged him. This was one of those times where Lance just needed to talk until he sorted out the source of the unease that was building inside his chest.

His tired mind was trying to calculate the time difference between Amsterdam and Florida. Was calling Veronica was an option? He guessed it was, since they were 6 hours ahead here. Though it was the middle of the week, better to do it now than wait. She had work tomorrow. Decision made, Lance rose to move toward the door, but stopped almost at once.

During his time by the pool, people had filtered out onto the terrace by the bar. The outdoor space was technically closed after midnight, but folks had brought out their drinks and some candles from the tables inside. There was a warm intimacy with the glow of flickering flames and muted voices carrying over to where he stood. He wasn't in complete darkness, the pool reflecting its own version of muted flickering light, but it felt separate, like two different worlds.

Lance stayed, watching the table where Keith, Shiro, Kara and Norlox were sitting. Norlox seemed to be holding court, the center of the conversation. Playing the role Lance would have usually filled had he been on his game. Keith seemed to be a little more relaxed than before (read, still uptight with new people Keith). However, Lance could see his lips were quirked as he listened to Norlox's animated story. Sometimes he would shoot an amused look over to Shiro who responded with his own reassuring smile. Kara, though would look at Keith, with an odd, veiled longing when he couldn't see. Lance didn't understand the emotions that flitted across her face, but she seemed pleased that Keith was enjoying himself.

A piece of the puzzle fell into place for Lance. Part of his problem was that he didn't know what the hell was happening with Keith. Without a doubt _something_ or _things_ were happening for his longtime bandmate and _friend._ But Lance was clearly not included in whatever that was. All of Lance's old insecurities were abuzz, fears he had believed he had laid to rest were nagging his every thought.

He sat back down on the lounger heavily, pressing his lips together and rubbing his hand over his chest. Distracted enough that when Pidge plopped into the lounger beside him, he startled, sloshing his forgotten beer over his hand.

"Hey!' Pidge grinned wickedly, seemingly pleased they had caught him by surprise.

"Ugh." Lance said putting his glass on the pavement and shaking off his hand.

Eyes full of mischief, Pidge offered a cocktail napkin that seemed to have come with their very fruity drink. Lance took it with a grimace and wiped his hand down and then stuffing the used napkin in his pocket.

He looked over expectantly, because he knew once he started talking, he wouldn't stop and Pidge was not always the best person to confide in. Not because they were untrustworthy. More because they were startlingly honest and direct which Lance wasn't sure he could handle right now. That said, he had planned to call Veronica, who could also be painfully forthright. So maybe he should just go with Pidge, since _they're_ here.

"Sounds reasonable." Pidge said stirring their drink with a skewer full of fruit.

Alas, Lance had said all of those 'thoughts' out loud. _Great._

"Before you start your tirade." Pidge said, putting up a hand indicating stop, "I wanted to say, _Thank you_."

"For what?" Lance asked, truly confused.

"For reminding Allura we're a team today. She thinks she has to do it all on her own. At least anything to do with the company. I think she feels like she can't lean on us anymore, at least with that stuff. You helped." Pidge said in a practical voice. "It was good."

Lance blinked back a few times, nonplussed. He didn't have a response, other than to say, "That was today?!" God, it seemed like a million years ago.

Pidge sighed and met his gaze with a semi serious look before settling back in their lounger. "Okay, open the flood gates, I'll see what I can do to help."

Lance didn't need anymore of an invitation. He couldn't sit still, it was an effort to keep his voice down so it would not carry to the others. The tirade was a rambling mess, though Lance liked to believe it was somewhat coherent, and that he started with recent history and moved backwards through time.

"Keith knows Krolia? How does someone not share that?" Hunk wants me to eat poffertjes, stroopwafels and herring for breakfast tomorrow, and I have to be honest, I am a little worried about what that means?" "What the hell is the Diva project?" "What is it with Shiro and Slav anyway?" "Who the hell calls a project _the Diva project_?" "I'll tell you who. Someone who doesn't understand Divas." "Have you seen some of the spiders in Europe, are they especially creepy here?" "As a diva, I understand Divas and if anyone is doing a project on them, I should be part of it." "Does it have to do with Transylvania and vampires, the spiders that is?" "It is weird I didn't notice Keith and Matt hanging out so much, almost as though Keith was hiding it from me." Finally ending with, "Why in god's name did nobody tell me about Keith making out Lotor on Grammy night?"

The monologue was punctuated with exclamations of, "What the ever living fuck?" and "Right?"

Throughout Pidge sat silent, assessing Lance through their large glasses, with calculating eyes.

Lance finished by throwing himself against the lounger hard enough that it jolted backward making a scraping sound against the concrete pool deck.

"Okay." Pidge began, choosing their words especially carefully. "I think I should start by assuring you that Keith and Matt aren't a _thing_. They're not _dating_ or anything."

Lance couldn't help but notice the small flicker of relief he felt at Pidge's words. Even still, he said, "Not like that would matter to me, but I already knew that."

While Lance had felt that shimmer of relief, and was trying hard to ignore the meaning of it, Lance had already been fairly certain that Keith and Matt weren't _together,_ together. Lance knew Keith and how hard it was for him to accept love. He wouldn't be so easy and relaxed with Matt if he had recently developed deeper feelings for him. Keith would be standoffish and self protective in the beginning. It takes alot for Keith to trust that people won't leave.

"Okay," Pidge began again, slowly, "The Diva project is just a thing, where Keith listens to music that Matt picks for him. Music by different Diva's."

Lance shook his head, eyebrows crinkling in an unasked question.

"There's more to it than that…" Pidge hurried to add. "They…"

"Keith is writing." Lance interrupted shortly, "He's writing music and he's not sharing it with me."

Pidge began to respond, but Lance cut her off again.

"I do wait, I know to be patient. I respect his process. I do understand him." Lance insisted, words firm, his hands accenting his meaning with a gesture.

"It's just…" Lance stumbled. Because the words hurt to say.

"It's just that he's…" Lance swallowed over a lump in his throat.

Pidge's eyes filled with understanding. "It's just that Keith is sharing what he is composing with Matt, but not you." They finished for him, voice soft with new understanding.

Lance felt his eyes burn and blinked several times to alleviate the dampness.

His voice was gruff when he was finally able speak. "It's just, I thought that was our thing. _Lance and Keith_ , like Simon and Garfunkel, Lennon and McCartney."

Lance's voice tapered off because he realized the implication of comparing him and Keith to those particular writing teams. His fear was old, but reborn, the idea that Keith would leave the band, that they would eventually fall apart without him.

"Maybe Keith is writing something he can't share with you… yet." Lance suspected that Pidge had added on the last word in response to the explosive look that came over his face.

"How could he not be able to share it with me?" Lance exclaimed dramatically, gesturing to himself. "We worked through so many personal things writing this album, and the last one. Why would that change?!"

Pidge stared back at him with eyes blinking in surprise, almost astonishment. They took a deep breath and rubbed their hands over their face and eyes. Fingers massaging under the large round rims. Lance thought he heard them mutter something about being oblivious, but he couldn't be sure. Pidge took a deep breath and straightened the glasses and met his gaze again.

"Lance." They paused for a moment. "It changed, because sometimes things just change. I guess Keith needs to write like this right now. It doesn't mean he won't come back to writing with you. I think it means he needs to sort _this thing_ out on his own."

"He's not doing it _on his own_." Lance protested angrily, before he could stop himself.

Pidge looked shocked and a bit angry. "Would you prefer it if he was?" They asked pointedly.

Pidge's words derailed Lance's indignant emotional response. It was a reminder that Keith _had_ been alone most of his life; that everyone he should have been able to depend on had left or died until Shiro came along. It was a sobering reminder. Lance knew how hard it was for Keith to trust anyone. It was part of the reason Lance treasured their writing relationship. Lance felt special that Keith trusted _him_. Of course he wanted Keith to be able to depend on other people.

"No." Lance said in a small voice. He didn't want Keith to be sorting out whatever _this_ was alone.

"Maybe," Pidge said reasonably, "Maybe once Keith gets whatever _this_ is figured out, you two will have an even better relationship."

'Do you think so?" Lance asked hopefully.

Pidge sighed again. "I really, really hope so."

Lance thought they didn't sound very sure.

"So, I should just wait." Lance said feeling like a little kid. He didn't want to just wait.

"No." Pidge rolls their eyes. "Be his friend. Be normal. Tease him and talk to him and stop tip toeing around him like he is made of crystal and then, intermittently, biting his head off. It's weird and making us all a little jumpy."

Lance realizes Pidge is right, he has been acting weird to Keith since the start of this trip. He is embarrassed when he realizes the others have noticed. No wonder Keith was treating him weird right back.

"Okay." Lance nods as much to himself as to Pidge. "I can do that."

Pidge nods back, and Lance finds the feeling in his chest has eased, only tightening a little bit when Pidge says quietly, "Good. Because I think Keith needs all of his friends right now." Lance doesn't ask what they mean. It a seems as though they didn't realize that they had said it aloud.

Even with that comment, Lance feels better, he is optimistic that he can reconnect with his friend. The idea that him and Keith will write together again, that they could be even closer friends, warms his heart. With the heavy weight gone, there is more space in Lance's chest and he thinks it would feel really good to take a deep breath, so he does. Then another, stretching out his arms to release the tension he has been holding in his shoulders. He hears them crack as they roll and enjoys Pidge wrinkling their nose in disgust.

"Do you want my alcoholic fruit skewer?" Pidge asked when he finishes stretching. A small smile is playing on their lips while the hold up the cherry and pineapple from their empty drink.

Lance returns the smile. "Do I?"

Pidge holds it out to Lance, letting go just before he has it in his grasp.

PLOP

The sweet fruit falls into the pool, slowly sinking to the bottom.

"PiDgE!" Lance complains in exasperation, as Pidge cackles madly.

 **Matt's Diva Playlist this week.**

 **Rolling in the Deep - Adele**

 **I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett and the Black Hearts (but Matt added the Halestorm cover too)**

 **Blow Me (one last kiss) - Pink**

 **Gonna Get Over You - (Sara Bareilles)**

 **Between the Lines - (Sara Bareilles)**

 **Believe - By Cher, but Matt likes the Adam Lambert cover performed at the Kennedy Centre**

 **Matt tried to sneak on Water and The Flame - By Celine Dion, but Keith refuses to listen to any version of this song.**


	8. Chapter 8 - My Heart Will Go On

Chapter 8 - My Heart Will Go On

 **I am sorry for the title. It was suggested by cathascosplays. Please don't hold it against me.**

 **I do not own Voltron Legendary Defender or any of the Characters.**

The band was on the bus again. Lance sitting behind Coran who had been regalling him with stories of his time touring with Alfor's band in the 90s. Lance had been particularly impressed to hear that Alfor and Zarkon had originally been in a band together, before they decided to form a record label. Lance had always known this piece of history. However, after meeting Krolia and discovering _she_ had been the top client that left Altea with Zarkon when the company broke up, Lance became curious about other stories from that period. Allura had plead the fifth, using her work as an excuse to avoid talking to Lance about the past. Besides, most of it was before she was born, so what could she really share? Coran had joyfully volunteered to spill details of their 'youthful frolicking and adventures.' Even Sam Holt played a role in some of the stories and Lance was vastly enjoying the multitudes of blackmail material he was hearing.

Coran had just finished sharing a particularly humorous tale about the band being kicked off the train into a field of reindeer on their first and only European tour. Coran's voice had tapered off into silence and the two of them sat watching the road feeling light from the laughter they had just shared.

It was just one of those beautiful, blue skied, perfect days. After their show in Amsterdam, they travelled to Utrecht, which had been a blast. They had an extra day there before playing in Brussels. Now the bus was heading to Paris. The band seemed to finally have found their groove on this tour and everyone hoped the booking chaos in Amsterdam would serve as the only hiccup.

Everyone else on the bus seemed to be equally relaxed. To the left of Lance, Shiro appeared to be reading a novel as Adam dozed against his shoulder. Further back, Allura was still working on financial statements, but Pidge had taken it upon themselves to create a data management program that helped organize the information in a more understandable way. The two of them were working side-by-side on laptops, sitting in a companionable silence. Pidge's socked feet were stretched out across the aisle, resting on their brother's arm rest. Matt, Lance noticed with a pang, was reading Keith's writing journal. The elder Holt oscillated between using his pen to make notes in the journal and tapping out a beat on Pidge's toes. Amazingly the younger Holt didn't seem disturbed by this, and only wiggled their feet in response, engrossed in whatever was on their own laptop screen. Hunk sat beside Matt, reading an issue of FoodEurope Magazine he picked up in Brussels. Keith is sitting further back on the bus, his legs stretched out across two seats, head resting back against the window, eyes closed listening to something on his headset.

Lance let his eyes rest on Keith for a moment, taking in his worn black jeans, his grey tee shirt under his favourite black leather jacket, made necessary by the air-conditioning on the bus. Keith had kicked off his Converse to get more comfortable, ankles crossed hand tapping on his lap in time to the music he was listening to. For some reason, in this exact moment, Lance noticed that Keith's eyelashes are enviously thick and long resting above his cheek bones. It takes a full 15 seconds before he realizes that was possibly the gayest conscious thought he had ever had.

As Pidge had suggested, Lance has been trying extremely hard to act normal around Keith. However, he was having some trouble remembering what constituted _normal_ for the two of them. To complicate matters, Keith was not acting like he usually would in response. More than once Lance had shot a snappy comment Keith's way, expecting him to respond in kind, leading to a good-natured verbal sparring match. But more often than not, Keith would give Lance a measured look, sometimes shrugging nonchalantly, and not reply at all. Lance wasn't certain if other people noticed, but he felt Keith's lack of response keenly. For him, those moments of silence seemed endless, as though he was on stage, in front of a huge crowd, playing an opening riff - only to have no band join in at the break.

It was because he was still watching Keith so closely that Lance witnessed the exact moment where Keith's expression changed to one of distaste. He pulled his earbuds out at the same moment his feet hit the floor.

"Matt." Keith complained loudly, holding up his phone, "I have told you I don't want to listen to this song. I really, REALLY hate Celine Dion."

There was a moment where the rhythm of Keith's words played on Lance's memory. If he had not been so impacted by the flash of violet in Keith's eyes he may have caught it right away. Unfortunately, it took a few precious seconds for Lance to gain his composure, but once he had, he felt his face form a half smile as he searched his brain for the perfect humorous response.

Shiro, however, beat him to it. "I will not do it on a bus, I will not do it if you make a fuss." Shiro says, mischievous smile forming on his lips as he looked up from his book.

Keith is derailed, mid-rant, nose wrinkling in confusion. Lance loses focus again and Pidge picks up the next line.

"I will not do it in a car. I will not do it in a bar." They say, without even taking their eyes of the laptop screen.

Keith is still lost, clenching his fists as he watches all of his friends. Lance sees Allura hide her laughter behind her hand, eyes sparkling.

"I will not do it in the air. I will not do it anywhere." Matt adds with dramatic arm movements, and an 1000 watt grin.

Keith's eyes roll as he finally picks up on the joke. "Oh, aren't you all fuck-ing hil-lar-rious?" He deadpans.

Lance can feel the smile pulling on his cheeks, and he has to work hard to suppress his laughter. By some miracle he manages to get the words out.

"You know I really, really hate her. So, I would not, _could not_ , do it in an elevator."

Lance can see Keith almost break, a small smile starts but he pushes his lips together and they pale from the pressure. There is both a sparkle in his eyes and an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

Keith runs a hand through his hair as he says, "Right, I am just going to go back to the bunks and you can all call me when pre-school is over."

"I will not listen to this song! I REALLY HATE CELINE DION!" They all chorus to Keith's retreating form, before collectively bursting into laughter.

The laughter doesn't stop for a few minutes. It dies down for a moment, but starts again when they look at each other, sometimes repeating the rhymes they said. Shiro is leaning on Adam, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Adam is shaking head in bemusement, not used to their antics. Allura's face is relaxed in laughter. Pidge just looks smug, as though getting one over on Keith is part of their daily check list and they got it done extra early today. Matt's eyes are still lit up like fireworks and he keeps slapping his hand onto his lap. Lance can hear, rather than see Coran chuckle, his eyes still studiously on the road. Hunk's face is warm and relaxed, and as the laughter finally peeters out he says, "You know…"

Pidge starts groaning right away, because they know what is coming.

Hunk continues, undaunted, "When you listen to her sing in french, you may develop an new appreciation for her voice."

There is a chorus of groans and Pidge throws the beanie they were wearing in Hunk's general vicinity. It lands on table between him and Matt, the latter picks it up and puts it on.

Hunk raises his hands, as though to protect himself from other projectiles, and continues like a chivalrous knight, defending his lady. "I am just saying, she is a talented woman who deserves respect." Pidge makes a extended sound that is a combination between a scoff and a snort. To which Hunk repeats, "I am just saying it, because it is true." He says, putting a hand over his heart. The gesture is priceless and leads to another round of chuckles and some good natured teasing about Hunk's musical tastes.

Everyone settles back into silence, seemingly falling into the relaxed state they were before. But now Lance is jumpy and restless. He doesn't know if he actually hears or imagines the sound of a guitar playing from the bunks. He doesn't stop to think about it, just jumps up to head back there. Consoling himself that this is 'normal Lance' behaviour, and he _is_ supposed to be acting like his _usual_ self with Keith. Lance pauses at Pidge's legs, road-blocking the aisle. Pidge studiously ignores him.

"Ahem." Lance says. "Pidge, you wanna move?"

Pidge rolls their eyes, sighs dramatically, and lifts their legs to let him pass. This draws people's attention to Lance going to the back... where Keith is. Lance immediately starts to second guess himself. _Now everyone knows he is going to see Keith. Why does it matter that everyone knows? It doesn't matter, it's normal. Is it normal? Why does it feel weird if it's so normal? Shit, is he blushing. Do people notice he is blushing._

The chaotic thoughts continue until Lance is standing at the door Keith went into. He definitely can hear the guitar playing and lifts his hand to knock. But wait. Would _normal_ Lance knock? Lance decides the answer is no, and throws open the door.

"Hi-dee ho stranger!" Lance announces.

 _Fuck, that was definitely not normal._

Keith looks up from the guitar he is playing, blinking in surprise.

 _Totally not normal._

"Hey." Keith says slowly.

Lance thinks Keith is regarding him warily, which makes sense, because that's what you do when your friends' start acting insane.

Lance figures he's here, and it's kind of a do-or-die situation, so he kicks off his shoes and jumps onto the bed without asking, pulling the door shut behind him. Lance figures he used to do stuff like this to Keith, although upon reflection, he realizes that this was probably pretty irritating behaviour on his part.

"Whatcha playing?" Lance asks pulling his legs into criss cross applesauce and resting his chin on his hands. He thinks that sounds like _good ole, everyday_ Lance. The posture may be a bit weird, but he's totally pulling off _close_ to normal.

Keith is still staring at him and blinking.

"Are you okay man?" Keith asks carefully.

 _Okay then,Totally Not Fucking Normal._

Lance hates this. It took years for him and Keith to get on an even keel and here Lance was acting like a lunatic. The more he tries to act normal, the weirder he gets.

"No." Lance answers honestly and deflates into a puddle as he does so.

"I mean, in general I am fine. But I am not okay with _us_ ," he gestures between the two of them, "being like _this_."

The words tumble out on top of each other and Lance really doesn't know where he is going with this. He just knows he needs to get back to something real with Keith. He misses him and other than one tickle match over the past two weeks, everything has been off. Wrong. Terrible.

"It's just ever since we.. ugh.. You know…" Lance said covering his face with open fingers so he could still see Keith.

"Kissed?" Keith supplied, raising an eyebrow.

"Jesus. God. Yes. That!" Lance burst out. "Everything has just been totally fucked up."

Keith regarded Lance calmly, "You said it was just a mistake, that we should just forget it."

"Yes." Lance agreed. "And I think I am right about that. Don't you?" He asks, his voice pitching higher, not even sure what he wants Keith to answer.

Keith's eyes shadow with confusion, not the cute wrinkled nose kind of confusion, but something guarded. Something that makes Lance feel afraid he has already lost his friend.

"I don't understand Lance, if it was just a mistake, what is the problem?" Keith's face is carefully blank and Lance can feel himself slipping. _Act normal, act normal, act normal._ He repeats it like a mantra in his mind.

"The problem is I don't even know how to act around you now. Like, one kiss and I am all weird and uncomfortable." Lance blurts out without thinking.

Keith's face hardens, he focuses on placing the guitar to one side before staring Lance down. "That sounds like it is your problem, not mine."

"No, no, no, no, NO." Lance shouts into Keith's face. "You are acting weird to me too." Lance counters, pointing first to Keith's and then to his own chest. "Don't deny it, because you can't."

If anything Keith gets even stiller, his face even more controlled. Lance can feel the panic rising, he can almost taste adrenaline.

"How? How am _I_ acting different?" Keith challenges, though his voice is quiet and controlled. It is so unlike how Keith acts when threatened that Lance almost loses his train of thought.

"Like this, right now." Lance starts. Keith makes a face, but Lance pushes on before he can speak. "And what the HELL is the DIVA PROJECT?" He demands arms flailing. "And, and, and that whole thing with Krolia?" Lance suddenly loses steam. "Like, what even _was_ that?"

Keith just stares back at Lance for a moment, blinking. Then he laughs a humourless laugh and bends down covering his eyes with one hand. Finally he looks up at Lance with a bemused smile, "These are the things you find weird?"

Lance feels even more confused, but Keith isn't looking at him with hard emotionless eyes anymore, so he'll take it. "Yeah, I am confused about… that... stuff." He gestures with his hand.

Keith takes in a big breath and lets it out a loud sigh. "Matt figured you would be all uptight about the Diva Project. He said you'd want to know what it was, especially if we called it that." Lance bristled at the words, but Keith had a small smile and his eyes were warm and fond. So Lance stayed silent, waiting for an explanation.

"It's like therapy." Keith began. Lance had to bite his tongue not to talk, but his disbelief must have shown in his expression, because Keith laughed. "Yeah, I know." He shrugged. "It is something Matt came up with. Using songs by Diva's to work through certain big feelings, that I suck at dealing with." Keith says looking sheepishly to one side rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "Matt says 'Diva's don't shy away from hard emotions, they wear them like jewelry, write them down and belt songs about them. They get over that shit.'" Keith impression of the older Holt sibling is so spot on, that Lance gapes. When their eyes meet they both laugh.

After a moment they fall into an awkward silence and Lance asks, "You're dealing with big emotions?"

"Uh, well DUH!" Keith says in a self deprecating way, that causes Lance's insides to ache. "I have a bit of a backlog." Keith leans back against the wall, looking into nothingness and continues, "You know, 'the _dark, dangerous and moody_ member of the band, the one with the _emotionally-starved childhood._ '" His voice tapers off.

Lance sees red because Keith is paraphrasing an article written about him on the Galra website earlier that year.

"What the hell Keith? Since when do you let fucking Zarkon's magazine define you?"

"Since it's right." Keith said shortly, cutting Lance off.

Another awkward moment of silence passes before Lance says, "I thought that…" He almost loses his nerve when Keith meets his eyes. Lance clears his throat and continues, "I thought that we worked stuff out… you know… writing… together." The last word comes out almost as a plea and Lance has to swallow down the lump in his throat.

Keith closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. He looks away, but then looks back at Lance, his eyes full of apology. "There are some things I can't work out with you Lance."

Ouch, that fucking hurts. Lance tries not to ask, but it comes out in a strangled voice. "Why not?"

He can tell Keith doesn't want to answer, but he does. "Because some things are just too hard to share. They're just... private."

Lance scoffs, because he is hurt and angry. "Apparently you can share them with Matt. Who you barely spent any time with before…"

"Matt guessed."

Lance stopped mid rant. Matt could guess something was bothering Keith. Something big, huge. And Lance-his longtime friend and bandmate missed it. But Matt figured it out, and now Keith trusted him to help find a solution.

Of course, Lance had known all of this. Didn't Pidge already tell him that Keith was working on something he couldn't share, at least not yet?

Lance knew that this had to do with more than Keith's difficult childhood and sordid past. Lance already knew about all of that stuff, and if that was all Keith was working through, he knew he could trust Lance with it. In fact they already had written together about Keith's Dad and Shiro's accident. It hurt to know there was more, and that Lance couldn't help. But he could also respect that. There was just one thing nagging at Lance.

"Does the Diva project have anything to do with Krolia?"

To Lance's surprise, Keith barked out a laugh.

"Well it didn't originally, but I guess it does now."

Lance just stared, confused.

Keith met his gaze, and took, yet another, deep breath.

"Krolia, er _Kara_ , is… my biological mother."

Keith could have knocked Lance down with a feather. Lance stared at him, eyes wide, mouth open, possibly for a full minute. Keith seemed relieved to have said it, and not at all shocked by the response.

"Um. Hh, uh. Wow!... Uh, What now?" Lance sputtered.

Keith was smiling now, a small, self deprecating smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Kara-the artist known as Krolia-is my biological mother."

"Holy shit." was all Lance could say.

"That is what I said." Keith smiled back.

"How?" Lance asked, still not having regained his full vocabulary.

"I think probably through normal means." Keith responded wryly. "Though I didn't ask for details." He deadpanned.

Lance didn't laugh. Just stared back at Keith.

"Dude."

Keith nodded.

"Your mother is effing Krolia?"

Keith nodded again.

Lance made a gesture placing his hands on each side of his own head and pulling them back while making a sound effect for an explosion.

Mind. Blown.

"When did you find out?" Lance finally found his words.

"Right before we left on tour."

"Wow." Lance said again, as one thousand little pieces fell into place. Keith wasn't just acting weird around him, Keith had been grappling with this huge revelation. Lance couldn't help but feel relieved and hopeful with that knowledge.

But back to the matter at hand.

"Did she explain? " Lance asked gently, seriously, "Why she… you know… why she left?" It hurt to say the words, so he could only imagine how Keith felt to hear them.

Keith looked to one side, at nothing, his mouth pulling into a frown. "Yeah, kinda. It was all about her believing she would be a bad mother. She was addicted to stuff. And Zarkon was being… you know… Zarkon. I mean, she takes responsibility and swears it wasn't me. She loved me. She felt broken and she thought she was doing right by me."

"Does that…" Lance fumbled for words, "help?"

Keith met Lance's eyes for a moment before looking away again. "I dunno," Keith sighed, "I mean, I guess it helps to know she always loved me. But it doesn't change that I spent years believing that…" Keith stopped, looking for the right words. "It is just hard to be someone who gets… left."

While he was speaking Keith had pulled in onto himself and as he said the last words he wrapped his arms around his knees forming a tight ball. Finally he looked up to meet Lance's gaze with vulnerable eyes. Lance's heart was aching for what Keith and his mother lost. He was hoping against hope that Krolia, er Kara could make it up to him, to repair some of the damage that had been done. But for the time being, Lance moved around to Keith's side and wrapped his arms around his friend.

Keith didn't cry, not that Lance had expected him too. He leaned into the embrace, resting his head onto Lance's shoulder.

"Effing Krolia." Murmured Lance still in shock. Keith gave an unhinged sort of giggle against Lance's shoulder. "No wonder you rock." Lance huffed a laugh. "It's in your blood man." He said with admiration. Keith sighed and leaned deeper into the hug, a tight ball of emo guitarist in Lance's arms. "We're not gonna leave you man. You know? The band. We're here for good." Lance squeezed tighter, "I, for one, am not going anywhere." He said, kissing Keith's temple.

He heard and felt Keith sigh deeply, and the very quiet words, "Thanks Lance."


	9. Chapter 9 - Just Give Me A Reason

**Guilty Pleasure - Chapter 9**

 **Just Give Me A Reason**

 **I do not own Voltron or its characters.**

 **Sorry, sorry, sorry for the long delay. There are good reasons for it. But I missed writing and I missed y'all. I hope you enjoy this short chapter. I have the next one almost ready to go.**

After Keith and Lance's emotionally draining conversation, Lance convinced Keith to play Uno with him. Keith was more of a poker guy, but Lance was not in the mood to experience the staggering defeat that occurred during the North American tour. Lance had 'bet it all' in a desperate bluff, _which would have been legendary_ , if Keith hadn't read it for exactly what it was.

The Uno game got rather loud when Lance was forced to pick up 36 cards after an extensive run of pick up 2s. The noise drew Pidge, who plays cards like a demon from a old-time blues song. Lance was 90% sure that Pidge had spent their high school lunches playing Italian Briscola for the sole purpose of winning the souls of unsuspecting freshmen. Lance once boldly made that accusation, to which Pidge had responded that he was ridiculous, and obviously didn't understand _brisk_. "If I really wanted to steal souls," Pidge had continued, "Bridge would be the game to play." He carefully avoided ever playing cards alone with them again.

With this in mind, they moved up to the front of the bus and switched to Boggle. Matt, Hunk and Alura joined in the fun. It was not Lance's favourite game, being dyslexic. However, they were all laughing together and it felt like old times, before they had to worry about public perception and tickets sales.

" _Wimpcap_ is not a word Lance." Pidge complained irritably. "Sure it is." Lance responded, presenting Pidge's discarded beanie to them. "It's a cap, that wimps wear." He met their unimpressed eyes with a sideways grin. Pidge just blinked back, game face on. Lance sighed loudly and dramatically. "Fine, you're no fun." He said as he crossed the word off his list.

Keith looked over at his page and said, "How did you get _Wimpcap_ , but not _wimp_ or _cap_?" "Shhh." Lance hushed Keith dramatically. "The real game is to see if you can get steam to come out of Pidge's ears." He stage whispered for all to hear. A light seemed to spark behind Keith's eyes, but he responded, deadpan, "Don't know if I like that game." to which Matt nodded emphatically and added. "Sounds too risky for me."

Pidge seemed unperturbed by Lance's stated intentions and proceeded to kick all of their asses at Boggle. Matt was a close second, but the rest were left in the dust. Lance wasn't 100% if all the words Matt and Pidge used were real, but he was revelling in hanging out with his people. He couldn't help it if his eyes landed on Keith more often than the rest of the group, and he savoured every time they shared a glance, or private joke.

Now the bus was pulling up to the hotel to drop them off. The late afternoon sun reflected off all the tinted windows as Coran drove away to the venue, once they were settled in the lobby. Lance had promised Hunk that they would find and eat delicious things as soon as they had freshened up. However, he was reluctant to leave the comfortable connection he was sharing with Keith right now, and thought he might ask him to come along.

He managed to catch Keith at the door of his hotel suite, everyone else having already filtered in to their rooms.

"Watcha doing after this?" Lance asked smoothly.

'Heading to the venue. Pidge and Matt want to try something with the sound equipment they just got." Lance grappled with his disappointment. He reminded himself that he had spent a whole, almost normal, afternoon with Keith. It was a good start. Keith was still waiting expectantly and Lance stumbled out a response.

"Kay, so catch you later then." He said with a smile, and headed down the hall to his own room.

It took Lance a moment to notice that Keith was watching him go. He stopped fiddling with his door card to look up to see Keith's dark eyes full of emotion. Keith took a sudden intake of breath, as though he hadn't realized his eyes had followed Lance until their gazes met. Lance's door flashed green and he opened it, but waited expectantly, in case Keith had something to say. The moment was already awkward, but he wanted to know what Keith was thinking right now.

Keith let out a breath and said. "Thank you Lance." Lance was baffled, but nodded. "Thank you for everything, for understanding about my… mother and… stuff."

Lance really didn't understand about _stuff_. Was Keith talking about putting their kiss behind them? Was he talking about them not writing together? Because, to be totally honest, Lance did not understand anything about that _stuff_. He was at sea about that _stuff._

He did know that Keith needed his support as he worked through some difficult things. He did know that he needed Keith, just needed _them_ to be okay. So, even though Lance wasn't 100% sure what Keith was grateful for, he said, "Of course. Anytime." And he knew he meant it.

"Oh my god, I am dying." Lance said, patting his bloated belly as he and Hunk got out of a cab at the back entrance of La Cigale, the venue for that night.

"I told you not to eat that second croissant." Hunk admonished.

"Two croissants are usually nothing for me." Lance responded. "You should see what I could pack away as a teenager."

"I did see what you packed away as a teenager." Hunk reminded him. "It wasn't pretty then either. Two croissants as a chaser for Falafel and chocolates seemed a bit much."

"I didn't even know the french had falafel." Lance mused, then groaned and leaned into his heftier friend.

"I know." Hunk said, patting a comforting hand on Lance's back. "But I read about _L'As du Fallafel_ in a magazine and I knew we had to go there"

"It was so goooood." Lance said opening the back door and waving to the security stationed there.

"Just don't puke on stage." Hunk warned.

Lance was about to give Hunk an earful about that comment, seeing as Hunk was the band member with a reputation for blowing his chunks. The first couple of gigs they played, Hunk's stage fright was so severe they kept a bucket beside his drum kit at all times.

However, Lance's righteous rant was cut off by hearing the music being played on stage. They were at side stage right, and Lance reached out to stop Hunk from stepping into view. He had a sneaking suspicion that if Keith knew they were watching, he'd stop. Keith was playing one Pidge's smaller keyboards. It was a simple tune, Lance struggled to place it.

Keith stopped and said to Matt, in the sound booth. "The vibrato is still a little tinny, can we clean it up a bit?" Matt adjusted something, and Keith played the intro again. From his place in the curtains Lance appreciated the small smile pulling at Keith's lips. Lance pulled back further into the darkness, thinking he'd been seen, when Keith looked up suddenly and said, "One more run through?" Lance realized that Keith was talking to Pidge, who was set up on another, larger keyboard, with three levels. Pidge nodded vigorously, facing away from Lance and toward centre stage. He heard a deeper sound of ascent and looked to the back of stage to see Shiro sitting at Hunk's drum set. Hunk must've noticed at the same time, because he made a delighted sound and Lance shushed him.

Without any other preamble, Keith nodded in a beat, as though silently counting himself in, and played the familiar notes that began the song.

 _Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say._

 _Sometimes I want to slap you in your whole face._

It was as Keith sang the first lyrics and Shiro came in on drums that Lance recognized the song, Pink's _True Love_. He had to bite his lip not to laugh out loud. The electronic sounds and upbeat pop rhythm were not Keith's go to for a cover. He could see Hunk actually cover his mouth to stay silent.

Pidge was having a ball messing with the sound of their voice singing the backup "woh -oh -oh" to punctuate Keith's lyrics.

 _There's no one quite like you,_

 _You push all my buttons down,_

 _I know life would suck without you._

Lance was transfixed. He was usually on stage with Keith when performing, and never got to watch him play a whole song. He wasn't even distracted by the miracle that was Shiro playing the drums with a prosthetic arm. Hunk, however, was bubbling with happiness and Lance realized they would never be able to keep it a secret that they had watched this performance. He just didn't want it to end. Thus, he made a more concerted effort to quel Hunk's excitement by holding a finger up to his mouth. Hunk understood and nodded emphatically.

 _At the same time,_

 _I wanna hug you,_

 _I wanna wrap my hands around your neck._

For some reason Lance flashes back to the early days of the band where he constantly poked and prodded at Keith to get a rise out of him. A fire that he wants to blame on indigestion burns in his stomach. Keith isn't singing about them… right?

 _You're an asshole,_

 _But I love you,_

 _And you make me so mad I ask myself,_

 _Why I am still here?_

 _Where could I go?_

 _You're the only love I've ever known._

No, it couldn't be about them. Unfortunately that old pressure is starting in Lance's chest again. He really doesn't want to name it, but he knows it is a longing, one he has been trying to deny even before the kiss. He feels like that time when he was 8 years old, surfing and got pulled into the undertow. Watching Keith is like watching the waves crash over him and not being strong enough to break the surface of the water.

 _But I hate_

 _I really hate you,_

 _So much I think it could be,_

 _True Love._

 _True Love._

He continues to watch, heart in his throat. The performance is probably good, it could be amazing. However, Lance is paying closer attention to the minute changes in Keith's facial expression, the huge smile that breaks his face when they start the second verse. The comical faces he makes as Matt electronically changes his voice leading into the bridge. The deep concentration as he plays through Pidge's vocal solo. And his final grin as he plays out the last notes.

Hunk can't contain himself. He cheers and runs out onto stage, hugging them all in turn, hugging Shiro twice. "Guys, that was amazing!" Hunk gushes. Keith immediately looks sheepish. Lance attributes it to being caught singing something akin to electronic pop music, even though Pink is all kinds of badass.

Lance doesn't really know what to say as he follows Hunk onto the stage. He gives some back pats and congratulations, especially to Shiro, who seems a bit embarrassed. Lance catches Keith's eye and says, "Not really your usual style." He is proud of how neutral he sounds, all the while wanting the song to be some sort of coded message.

Keith shrugs, though there is still a smile playing at his lips. "It was a good one to try out the new equipment." He says non-committedly before turning to Hunk's animated conversation with Shiro.

Lance thinks he may be dying a little. He still feels underwater, but this time he doesn't care.


	10. Chapter 10 - Shadows of the Night

**Hey all - I don't own Voltron or Legendary Defender or any the characters.**

 **Notes - The band goes to a Movie Premier and things don't follow the usual routine. I blame England. Lance may blame other things.**

For the first time ever, one of TLD songs had been used in a movie. That was kinda cool. They had planned the tour to include a stopover in London for them to attend the opening. The band had done their share of red carpet events and had figured out some strategies to get through them smoothly.

Since Lance and Allura had ended their relationship, he rarely brought a date to big events. When asked why, Lance would joke that he had to 'babysit' Keith often reaching over to muss his hair or poke him as he said so. There was a bit of truth to the statement. Keith had the tendency to come across as distant and awkward when having to talk to nosy, overly-sunshiny, entertainment reporters. He had also been known to _growl_ at paparazzi and members of Galra Press. It was good sense to have another band member nearby to draw the line of fire or defuse potentially combustible situations.

At first, Shiro played this role - walking Keith up the aisle, smoothing his brother's rougher edges with a warm smile. Shiro didn't really get interviewed anymore, being seen as less of a celebrity now that he focussed on management, but he remained even-tempered as he watched over the group and was able to step in if any band members got in over their head with the press. Shiro now had the broader spectrum of responsibilities that came with management, and couldn't focus only on Kieth anymore. This lead to Lance stepping in as Keith's red-carpet-buddy as part of a larger shift in their relationship that happened when Keith became the band's frontman.

Even when Allurance was a thing, the couple would often drag Keith along with them. Sometimes a disgruntled Keith would complain that he wasn't their 'pet' and would hang back with Pidge and Hunk instead. Unfortunately, the drummer and keyboardist were terrible at keeping the lead guitarist out of trouble. Pidge had the unfortunate habit of egging people on, and Hunk was just too nice to step in and pull Keith out of a confrontation. There was an unmentionable incident where Keith was caught on camera, flipping the bird right into a Galra reporter's face. After that, Keith stayed close to Lance on red carpets.

When they were together-it just worked. Lance had the uncanny ability to see when a conversation was going south. He could catch Keith before his face soured, or a sarcastic comment came out his mouth. He would tell a joke or make a face, to shift the mood. Sometimes Lance would have to interrupt and redirect conversation, but it seemed natural on camera given Lance's already hyper persona. Lance loved having a front row seat to Keith's interactions with the fans. However cold or distant Keith appeared to the press, he still came across warmly, if not a bit shy, in front of fans. They loved his hesitant answers and blushes. Lance got a kick out of watching Keith's shy smiles when young people, with hero-worship in their eyes, gave him gifts of flowers and artwork. While Keith didn't always know what to say, he would listen thoughtfully, sign posters and body parts. Then Lance would help him move along to the next person calling his name.

In actuality, Lance felt safer hanging out with Keith in the limelight. He didn't want to bring another date. Lance never really wondered why. He assumed he had come to hate the idea of a romantic relationship playing out publicly. While his a Allura's affair had been well received by most of their fans, they were still watched closely by the press. Every facial expression was analysed. The colour of their clothes, a inopportune yawn, holding hands tightly, not holding hands at all, even a shoulder brush was spun to indicate the impending engagement, or the demise of their relationship. An innocent whisper would be presented as their secret pregnancy or plan to break off from the rest of the band.

Lance was looking forward to the night. It was a night off performing music. The Paris show had gone well and the tour was more than half over. He was going to get a chance to schmooze the press, work the crowds and soften Keith's awkward and rough edges in the short interviews they would be subjected to. They'd get to watch a moving together and later he would get to hang with his friends at a party. This was the kind of thing they dreamed about when they were playing in Pidges's basement all those years ago.

Lance surveyed himself in the mirror, appreciating the way his silk navy suit made him look even longer and leaner. His hair was partially slicked back, two errant bangs falling just so over his eyes, giving the underlying impression that they couldn't be tamed. He centred his patterned tie, and clipped silver cuff links at his wrists. He shot himself finger guns and grabbed his wallet and phone and headed out the door. He was still fiddling with putting them in his pocket as Keith came out of his hotel room. Lance paused to admire his bandmate, who looked amazing. Keith, uncomfortable with 'suffocating and stuffy clothes' wore a casual black suit. The soft linen was tailored to fit his slim build and showed off his shoulders, arms and butt in the best possible way. Under it was a collarless deep red shirt, with the top button undone. The whole outfit was made more comfortable by the black sneakers. Keith must have let Romelle, their stylist, do his hair because it had clearly been blown dry and moused up a bit. He also wore a pair of wire rim glasses that he didn't need, but that Romelle insisted made him look 'sexy smart.'

"Hey." Lance raised his eyebrows and grinned. Keith responded by pulling a face. It was no secret that Lance loved these events and Keith didn't.

As they walked to the elevator, Lance pondered the best way to tell Keith he looked good, and not be 'weird about it.' He decided maybe the pressure to 'be normal' was getting in the way of his regular flirtatious self and decided, for tonight, not to worry about it. He pressed the down button and heard Keith sigh as though he were being led to the gallows. Lance mustered a reassuring smile, meeting Keith's wary eyes with sparkling ones, and said, "Dude, it's going to be fine."

Keith took a breath to answer, but before he could the elevator chimed and the door slid open. Matt was lounging inside the elevator in a grey suit. His hair also styled back and his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. His smile brightened upon seeing them. "Whoo hooo, hot stuff there Keith, you look amazing!" Lance almost rolled his eyes, but couldn't quite hold back his smirk at Matt's enthusiasm. It was too much and Lance waited for Keith to make an embarrassed sharp comment to the over-the-top compliment. For second Lance basked in Keith's grimace. But then Keith takes a calming breath and says, like he is practicing a line for a play, "Thank you, Matt. You look good as well." The words were stilted and Keith's face burns as he said it. But as soon as the words were out, the two met each other's eyes with a look of shared meaning. Matt making an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement? Encouragement? Whatever it meant, Keith understands and his face relaxing into one of his small smiles.

Whoa. Now Lance's face is burning because...

WTF was that?

In the moment the other two men have a silent conversation, the doors slide close behind them and Lance feels trapped.

"Yeah, yeah, you both look good." Lance blusters. " I have to say I appreciate the two of you making an effort because it showcases _me_ , and you know, that's who the ladies are coming to see." While Keith's face shifts as he turns his head and sighs out a small groan of annoyance, Lance smiles because its just what he knows how to do. Matt grins and laughs good-naturedly, and Lance is relieved to no longer be sidelined to watching Matt and Keith _bonding_ , or whatever _that_ was.

The elevator doors open on the main floor, where the rest of their group awaits and they are hustled off into two limos. Lance is surprised when Matt joins him, Keith and Hunk in their car, instead of climbing in with his sister. Shiro also looks a little confused, but simply shrugs and climbs into the second car with Pidge, Allura, and Adam.

Even though there is lots of room in the stretch limo, they pile in the furthest back seat, with Keith and Lance in the middle, Matt and Hunk on the sides. The ride to the theatre is filled with friendly chatter with Keith being his usual quiet self. Lance guesses Keith is trying to psyche himself up to deal with the crowds and thus, tries to keep things light. Matt seems to sense this as well and leads the conversation toward the new model MIDI controller he and Pidge got in Paris. "It is really neat, has lots of cool new features. I know you guys prefer the live vibe, but you heard the awesome sounds we were able to make."

"I have always been curious about them," responded Lance "Keith's the musical purest over there." He teases.

Lance is gratified to see Keith's lips curve up, just at the corners. "You make me sound like a Luddite." Keith responds dryly, watching out Matt's window.

Lance smiles, "You kinda are. About this stuff at least," nudging Keith's shoulder. Keith's only response is a huffing sound.

Lance may be grasping at straws, but takes that as something close to normal...

Until Matt says, "Yeah, we'll have to work on that." patting Keith on the knee.

Lance can't explain the sharp emotion that pulls in his stomach at that seemingly harmless phrase and gesture. Not for the first time tonight, he feels like an outsider and it bothers him. He tries to shake it off, but it feels sticky, like tar. Hunk shoots Lance a look that contains empathy and a warning. Lance is unable to fully decipher the look, but has enough self-awareness to know that he always hates feeling left out of... pretty much anything. He thinks the warning is not to react the way he usually does when that happens. There is an internal resistance, Lance has spent a number of years getting a handle on his reactions to being left out. Despite small lapses, he is proud to say he had grown up a lot from the days when he would spiral into endless blathering and blustering to remain in the spotlight.

But this feels different.

A little more intense.

A lot more intense.

Hunk seems to pick up on Lance's internal struggle and he shifts the conversation to Shiro playing the drums The other day, in Paris. The topic is a happy one and it shifts the mood easily. As they approach the theatre Lance has shaken the discomfort, anticipation giving him a boost of adrenaline as they pull up to the red carpet. This is where he shines. He grins and gives the other three a sparkling smile. "Razzle Dazzle time." he winks and slides out of the limo.

Bouncing from his toes to his heals he takes in the crowds while the other men get out of the back seat. He turns back to place his hand on Keith's back, as is his custom when they arrive at these events. Keith always seems to freeze right as he gets out of the car into the noise and camera flashes, and Lance had found that the small amount of physical contact seems to ground him. In fact, this had become so second nature, that Lance doesn't consciously know that's what he is turning to do until he realizes Keith isn't beside him.

Lance looks over to see Matt standing firmly beside Keith, leaning shoulder to shoulder, his own hand on Keith's back and speaking quietly to him. Lance only has time to register a re-occurrence of that sharp pull in his stomach before an E-News reporter is calling a question out to him and beckoning him toward the barricade along the side of the carpet. He hesitates for a second, looking back at Keith and Matt. Hunk steps toward him, physically offering his companionship, but Lance gives a small shake of his head to his oldest friend. He can't explain why, but he doesn't want to walk up with another person. It's clear that Matt is taking over the role of assisting Keith through the throng, and if that is the case, Lance wants to go alone.

Lance steadies himself internally, turning back to the reporter who is getting impatient and insistent. As he walks over with a 200-watt smile he feels an odd feeling, as though he had left something important back in the car.

Lance's face aches from smiling and he feels a little untethered, like his voice is too loud and his energy level a bit too high as he negotiates the crowds. His suspicions are confirmed when Shiro joins him for the last third of his walk down the carpet, adding a calming balance to the short interviews, helping Lance stay on topic and extracting him from overly long conversations. Lance is carefully avoiding looking over to see how Keith and Matt are faring. He is pretty successful at it except for a moment, when he hears Keith laugh, and not his freaked-out, cornered-by-a-bloodthirsty-tabloid-reporter -on-a-red-carpet-laugh, but his actual, 'I am enjoying myself and that was funny.' kinda laugh.

It's at this point when he murmurs to Shiro through a plastered on smile, "I am done, get me inside." Shiro takes control, as is his nature, and giving the impression he is rushing Lance somewhere important, he waves at the rest of the crowd and guides Lance inside the fancy oak doors to the theatre.

Once in the cool darkness of the lobby, Lance is tempted to run his hand through his hair but doesn't want to ruin the carefully crafted look, so instead rubs the back of his neck, pushing against the collar of his shirt in an effort to loosen the tie underneath."Thanks, man." He says to Shiro. Shiro smiles running his hand through his own hair. Which for Shiro, makes it look ruffled and sexy. "Kinda thought I should step in once Honerva asked you about your favourite _kink."_ Shiro said laughing. Lance pulls a incredulous face, "She did ask that right? It wasn't just me imagining it?" Shiro is still laughing as he puts his hand on Lance's shoulder and pulls him further into the lobby."You look like you could use a drink." Still, bemused and feeling unbalanced Lance follows saying, "I definitely could."

In general, it could have been called a good night. The band wasn't in the movie, so they really didn't have any responsibilities other than to show up and schmooze. The actors and director did a panel discussion after the screening, and only once was the band called upon to talk about the video for the song used in the movie. Despite the Honerva's weird questions on the red carpet, Lance didn't have anything overtly unpleasant happen, but he found himself feeling low and moody. He cut himself off after two drinks knowing his grumpiness didn't mix well with alcohol.

Lance tries to ignore that Keith didn't sit next to him during the show, that they didn't have a whispered commentary… or Lance didn't whisper a commentary to have Keith respond by shushing him and whispering 'shut up'. Lance doesn't ponder the fact that he had zero interest in whispering to Shiro or Hunk, who were his neighbours in the audience. He tells himself he is getting to mature to talk at movies, especially premieres.

Hunk and Pidge, thrilled with the movie, are regaling him with theories on how some of the special effects were achieved. Unfortunately this turns into a argument over how often green screen was used VS a model for one of the character's prosthetic limbs. As the debate becomes heated, Lance begins to plot his escape, because he knows the next step will involve pulling the production team, actors or director into the conversation. Lance abruptly tells them he's going to go. His friends are clearly surprised, and for a moment Lance is surprised too, because he often hangs out at these events until early hours, chatting up everybody from A-list stars to the wait staff. He simply just loves to be with people. What is wrong with him tonight?

Still sitting in shocked silence, Pidge and Hunk give each other a worried glance when Lance says, "I think I am fighting off something." He says, rubbing his head as though checking for a fever, because they clearly know something is up. "I'm going to head back to the hotel. Where is Keith? Maybe I will go back with him."

"Keith's gone on to the next venue, he left with Matt about an hour ago." Pidge says simply, owl eyes blinking behind her glasses.

"What?" Lance asks incredulously, "Why would he do that?"

The question isn't unfounded, the band, knowing they had the movie premiere had booked hotel rooms for the night and were taking a short train ride to the festival venues in the morning. They extended their comfort for as long as possible because they'd be staying on the bus for the next few days.

Since the next stop is a festival, they only need a small crew and sound team. Much of the rest of their team would be staying in London and meeting up when they head to Spain. The skeleton crew that staid had to drive the trucks through the night to get to the site and set things up. Coran had also gone ahead with the bus. The team, once they arrive they had an arduous set up to do. Keith has essentially given up a night in a comfortable bed and sleeping in to… hang out in a truck… with Matt.

Pidge and Hunk look awkwardly at each other, obviously surprised that Lance didn't already know this plan. "I guess he just wanted to hang with Matt a bit." Hunk says, as though this is completely reasonable. 'Which it isn't', Lance thinks as he feels the tightness return to his chest full force and pushes it down with anger. "Well, _he's_ an idiot." Lance says, with feeling. Rubbing a hand down his face, he texts Shiro, asking him to get a car. Lance barely remembers to say a quick, if not curt, good night to Hunk and Pidge before heading for the door.

For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Lance finds it taxing to smile and nod and properly pay his respects to people as he leaves a big event like this. His smile feels tight and fake and he just wants to crawl into bed and get some freedom from this uncomfortable ache that has returned, full force, to settle in his chest.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Words Get in the Way

**Chapter 11 - The Words Get In the Way**

 **Hey all - sorry for the long break, this chapter has been running around in my head for weeks now, but this is my first chance to sit down and write it.**

 **Voltron Legendary Defender and Characters are not owned by me. That all belongs to Dreamworks.**

Despite being exhausted upon returning to the hotel, Lance couldn't sleep. He had showered, done a moisturising facial, gave himself a foot massage, and drank a cup of chamomile-peppermint tea. He even took care of some personal business, hoping to ease the tension out of his body and stop the ever persistent litany of thoughts spinning like a hamster wheel in his head. In the end, he couldn't stop thinking about Keith and instead of relaxing, he ended up feeling agitated and lonely.

Lance knew he cared for Keith, that he could really love the guy given a chance. Actually, scratch that, Lance did love Keith, like family. Lance also loved playing music with Keith, writing music with Keith, he loved talking to him and wrestling him and just hanging out. Lance liked teasing Keith, making him scowl. He loved with Keith pushed back, how his eyes sparkled when he deadpanned a joke, catching Lance by surprise. However, Lance didn't want to lose any of that. Lance told himself that it was important to put the brakes on a romantic relationship, because what if it went badly? It already felt like Keith had one foot out the door.

With Allura, it had been different. Lance was always categorically out of her league. The beginning their friendship had been him firing off pick up lines and her shooting him down. She supported their music from a business perspective and they had a friendly professional relationship. You know, one where Lance overstepped the bounds of propriety by telling her she was beautiful in a million different ways. Eventually trust grew between them, but it wasn't until they were dating that they began to share deeper parts of themselves. Allura and Lance started as associates, became lovers, and then friends. Keith and Lance's relationship had begun and a one sided rivalry, acquaintances, band mates then deepened into friendship. The connection they had was _hard won_ and Lance wasn't prepared to risk losing it. Also, if Keith actually left, Lance wasn't certain how the band would reform. Not without Shiro. Keith's presence held them together in more ways than one.

It's not as though Lance can go back in time to pursue a relationship with Keith. That momentary opportunity was past, long past. Tonight, seeing Keith with Matt was hard. Hard, because Lance realized that not dating Keith meant losing parts of their friendship as well. Matt had seen Keith down the red carpet, and even though Pidge has assured Lance the two aren't dating, it looked very much as though they are. Even if Matt and Keith are not a couple, some day Keith _will_ date someone, maybe even marry someone. When that happens, _that_ person will be who Keith walks down red carpets with, tells secrets to. Hell, Keith may even write music with this future, unknown partner. It is that thought that brings a sharp tight feeling to Lance's throat and hot tears to his eyes.

"Argh." Lance vocalizes as he pulls the pillow over his face. Dating or not (Lance really hoped it was NOT-Pidge said not.) Matt was already doing all those things with Keith. Lance wanted to scream at the irony of it all. He didn't pursue a relationship with Keith to protect their friendship, and still seemed to have lost what he had been trying to save. Meanwhile it seemed he had now lost any opportunity to have more.

Red flashing numbers on the hotel clock read 1:56 AM. Lance flung back the plush bed coverings in frustration and pulled out his acoustic guitar. 'If Keith can write music without me, I can write music without Keith,' he thought petulantly. But the process was stilted. Lance is a social creature and he languished without another person to bounce ideas off of. Finally he just closed his eyes and strummed chords and finger patterns without any goal or form. It was a stream of conscious process. The vibration of the sounds comforted Lance through his stomach and chest where the guitar rested against his body. He could feel the pressure of the strings under his calloused fingertips and the deep resonance of his own voice as he hummed. It was soothing and other-worldly to close his eyes and feel the music from inside his body.

He didn't know how long he played like that, but at some point inspiration took over. Lance no longer had a writing journal, long-ago hijacking Keith's when they worked together. He scrawled out the song on hotel stationary, front to back, finishing the last verse on a receipt he dug out of his wallet.

It was a song about being afraid to take risks. Wondering why life seems to offer different versions of the same challenges over and over again. The words didn't come easily, because Lance was realizing that his was afraid of more than losing Kieth. He could see his friends changing, growing. At the ripe age of 24 Lance had everything he ever dreamed of, lost the one girl he had ever loved and still found a sense of hope and happiness. He wasn't sure what happened next. Expressing his feelings was difficult, and song felt very personal. Private. Abstract lyrics because his superstitious nature led him to code his thoughts, not wanting to say his deepest fears out loud.

After completing the final verse, he felt gutted, but also a deep sense of satisfaction. The sky was softly brightening outside his window when he finally put his guitar back in it's case. His throat was raw from singing and crying and his eyes were bloodshot and tight.

He gratefully climbed under the covers falling into a restless and dream-filled sleep where he chased after Keith, on earth and throughout many other galaxies. Keith was always just out of reach until he seemed to leave Lance for good. Lance was heartbroken but put on a brave face for the band, pumping up their stage show with Pink-inspired aerial performances. Keith then returned with his mother after years of touring Asia and Canada on the back of a whale. Every-time Lance tried to talk to him, they would be interrupted by short, cute fans asking for hugs and autographs. Finally, Lance cornered Keith, but the dark haired boy promptly disappeared by touching a fluffy, blue 'space-wolf' the size of a pony. The dream ended with Honerva sticking a microphone in front of Lance's face and asking inappropriate questions about elevators. She then electrocuted him with purple lightning and Lance woke feeling like he had experienced a bad acid trip or taken too much nyquil.

Despite being able to sleep until after ten, Lance was totally exhausted for the train ride. Hunk shot him worried glances until Lance explained he had been up all night writing a song. This seemed to make Hunk immensely happy and he graciously let Lance sleep on his shoulder (read drool on his shoulder) all the way to the concert site. Hunk would gently wake him when the beverage trolley came by but wouldn't let Pidge stick things between his sock covered toes, nor would he let her draw on Lance's face. Hunk is an all round awesome best friend in all the right ways.

The train trip from London to Reading was less than an hour, so Lance didn't get much in the way of extra sleep. However, he told himself that he felt fairly grounded (or maybe it was numb) by the time he climbed onto the tour bus and came face to face with Keith.

Until, "I wrote something last night, _but I am not ready to share it yet_." Lance blurted, with the bitter maturity of a 13 year old.

Keith blinked owlishly in surprise. Long lashes closing over dark amethyst eyes. Lance was on the verge of pulling out the song to share, because he is hypnotized that easily. However, when Lance's gaze expands to Keith's whole face and he mutters. "Oh Shit."

Keith flinched at Lance's words putting a hand to his hair saying, "What?!" because something about his appearance is clearly bothering Lance.

"Shit, shit, shit." Lance repeated, Keith becoming more concerned, now trying to see his own face reflected in the nearest window.

Pidge and Hunk had climbed on the bus behind Lance and were now watching in different stages of shock and bemusement.

Lance was clearly in crisis mode, turning to the drummer and keyboardist saying, "Get Shiro now!" Apparently they didn't act fast enough, because Lance rushed down the aisle of the bus yelling, "Shiro! Shiro!" Catching the manager by surprise as he came up the stairs. Lance's panic was barely quelled by Shiro arriving with Allura and Adam. The manager catching him by the shoulders and says. "What is it Lance?

The tall lanky boy's hand went up to point at Keith, and he said with dread seriousness, "Keith's getting sick."

The announcement was met at first with a shocked silence and then with a chorus. "No way!" "He looks fine to me." "You okay buddy?" Finishing with Keith saying "I am not sick Lance, I never get sick."

"Not true!" Lance argued. "Remember the week before senior prom? You wouldn't have been able to go if we hadn't fed you Mama Garrett's famous slow-cooked, chicken, ginger and garlic soup for three solid days."

"Ugh, I remember." The dark haired boy rolled his eyes. "I didn't even want to go to prom."

"Gasp." Lance said, grabbing a handful of his own shirt. "You couldn't miss prom Keith. That was an _epoch of our lives._ "

Keith rolled his eyes, muttering something about Lance being the _pox of his life_. The tall cuban continued his rant.

"Also, remember when we were filming the "Family Time" video on Varadero Beach, you had a fever of One Hundred and Three!" Lance said, annunciating every syllable of each number while shaking his finger in Keith's face.

"Oh. My. God. Lance. I've been sick twice in the seven years that you've known me. What does that have to do with anything?" Keith responds with his normal heat.

"Because you are clearly fighting something off right now." Lance says gesturing wildly. "Your skin has that dry satiny look, just a shade paler than usual and your eyes are doing the glassy thing." Lance turns to the others for support and barely catches a meaningful look pass between Pidge and Allura. He decides to ignore it.

Shiro seems swayed by Lance's argument. Squinting at Keith he says, "How _**are**_ you feeling Keith?"

True to form, Keith reacts poorly to intense attention and the implication that his impenetrable force of will can be breached by anything, including a virus. "I'm fine." He says defiantly, standing and stalking toward the exit.

Hunk jumps in his path. 'Wait, wait. Keith. I have this homeopathic remedy that Shay swears by, it has aconitum and other stuff in it. It can totally prevent the flu and other viruses."

Keith sighs in frustration. "I am not eating sugar pellets Hunk. I'm. FINE."

It is the Saturday night main stage show at the Festival and it has been pretty much raining for the past two days. Keith, as predicted by Lance, is incredibly ill. His skin goes from impressively pale, to burning red as his fever comes and goes. However, Keith plows through performance after performance, sleeping in between. He is hopped up on cold medication and the rest of the band tiptoes around his miserable ass. Lance doesn't even indulge in a single 'I told you so.'

The two of them are backstage in a makeshift dressing room, waiting for the rest of the band. They are the headline act of the night. Keith is sprawled on the only comfortable chair in the room head resting all the way back. He makes a groaning noise and takes a nasal spray out of the breast pocket of his jean jacket and spritzes each of his nostrils making a gagging noise as the bitter liquid hits the back of his throat.

He groans again as he drags himself up off the chair to head to the one mirror in the space. Romelle had done her best with make up, covering Keith's red nose and sore upper lip. She managed to hide the dark circles. However, Keith was so grumpy that she sent him away and told him to do up his own eyes. The mirror is surrounded by white cabaret lights, its surface covered with band decals and bumper stickers. Keith is crouching to try to see his eyes in a 4 inch by 3 inch space of reflective surface. Holding one hand over his cheek bone, he tries to apply eyeliner with the other, shaking, hand.

"Ugh, shit." He says, almost poking himself in the eye.

"Oh my god." Lance says turning Keith by his shoulders and taking the eyeliner out of his hand. "Give me that, before you hurt yourself."

It says a lot about Keith's level of energy that he doesn't make the slightest protest. Lance stares into glossy violet eyes and tries not to get lost. He does cat eyes on Keith because he thinks it will look hot and doubts the fevered lead guitarist would or could stop him.

"We should talk about what we are going to cut from the set list." Lance says seriously, while adding a perfect curl of black at the corner of Keith's lashes.

"Nothing." Keith growls.

Lance suspects it is a futile fight. Shiro has already had this discussion with Keith, wanting to shorten their show so Keith can rest.

"Keith." Lance warns raising his eyebrows and staring right into his friends face. "You can barely stand."

The dark haired man seems to stumble toward Lance, proving the point. But Keith steadies, closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He opens them again and says with conviction, "I'll be fine once I am on stage."

His gravelly voice pulls at something in Lance's chest. He sighs deeply, because the lanky guitarist knows the discussion is over. He resists the urge to rest his temple against Keith's, instead pushing him back into the chair, saying, "Well I guess you best rest up now, you stubborn butthead."

Keith's eyes are already closed, but he snorts inelegantly, "Zat the best you can come up wit'?" He prods. Lance playfully pushes at Keith's boot with his own foot. "I have to pull my punches, you're at less than half stamina." Keith doesn't respond, and Lance suspects he's fallen asleep.

The show seems to last forever. The rain lets up, turning to a heavy and cool humidity that hangs in the air like a foreboding presence. The crowd is die-hard, having waited for hours, in crappy weather, for their favourite band. Knowing this, The Legendary Defenders give back everything they have. None more than Keith who's raspy voice adds texture to the music. Lance keeps eyes on him, actually worried the lead guitarist might collapse on stage. Galra press would go crazy with something like that. Though Lance is more worried that Keith is pushing himself way to hard.

The finally play their last song and Lance tries to rush to Keith's side. However Keith has walked off stage directly to Shiro and promptly collapses in his brothers arms. Lance feels panic rise in his throat. He can tell Keith is unconscious by the way his head lolls to one side. Shiro's already beelining to a golf cart that will drive them to the bus. The rest of the band follows quickly in separate carts. Lance can barely swallow over his fear.

There is a doctor already waiting for them when they get there. Shiro had arranged for it. He also has arranged for them to drive to a hotel afterwards, so they all can have comfortable beds and hot showers. Keith wakes up enough to have a quick once over. They don't even go one of the back rooms. The band stands solemnly around as the doctor listens to a shirtless Keith's lungs and heart. She takes his temperature and blood pressure.

"Well, he is clearly exhausted." The doctor says. "But it's not pneumonia… not yet. I don't want to start antibiotics, since it is probably a virus. But it could become bacterial if he doesn't take care of himself. He's too cold for certain." The doctor's voice fades out as Lance notices Keith is already losing consciousness again. He steps forward pulling Keith's arm over his shoulders. The Doctor and Shiro both glance up, surprised. "I am taking him to one of the bunks." Lance says gesturing with his head to the back of the bus. He barely recognizes his own voice, hoarse from performing and raw with concern.

Nobody stops Lance. They all move out his way and Hunk opens the door for him. Lance is kicking off his shoes as he enters the space. Lifting Keith sideways onto the mattress. It is awkward at best. Lance pulls off Keith's wet shoes and socks, but leaves on his jeans, they still have to walk into a hotel and they'll be hell to try to put back on. Lance then pulls off his own jacket, shirt and socks. He climbs on to the bunk and pulls Keith the rest of the way up with him. He carefully wraps blankets around the two of them.

Keith back is pressed up against Lance's bare chest and only now does he realize how cold the smaller man is. He feels a shiver wrack through Keith's body and has to fight back tears of frustration. "Buddy, you got to take care of yourself. You can't just sacrifice your health like this."

He adjusts until they are more comfortably situated on the pillows and wrapped under blankets. He wraps his arms around Keith's front and holds his hands, trying to warm them. He presses his bare feet against Keith's cold ones, under the covers. Keith struggles for a moment and complains in his sleep. Lance whispers, "It's okay man, I've got you." The smaller man settles in his arms and Lance closes his eyes to say a prayer. The engine of the bus rumbles to life underneath them and during the long ride to the hotel, Lance drifts into a dreamless sleep.


	12. Chapter 12 - Fever

Guilty Pleasure Chapter 12 - Fever

 **Hey all - sorry for the long break. Summer is my busiest season at work.**

 **Voltron and Characters are not owned by me. They belong to Dreamworks.**

 **Please do not repost my story anywhere. Thanks!**

The ride to the hotel was relatively short, but even after 20 minutes curled up with Lance, Keith's hands and feet were still cold to the touch. The dark haired guitarist still shivered beneath the thin coverings. Lance stuffed his own bare feet into soggy shoes and put on his damp shirt. Then he pulled Keith up, wrapping him in the blanket. Thankfully the rain had not started again, so Lance did not force Keith back into his shoes. Lance carefully pulled the other man up and guided him, barefooted, out into the main part of the bus and sat him in one of the back seats. Lance dug into a cubby finding blue lion slippers his sister gave him last Christmas. Managing to slip them on to Keith's feet and pull him back up into his arms.

Upon exiting the bus it became apparent that they were at no ordinary 'hotel'. They seemed to be parked in a full lot, in the middle of nowhere, four golf carts were waiting for them here. Adam met them whispering something about, 'Being quiet, so as not to disturb other guests.' As Lance struggled to guide Keith to one of the carts he heard Adam whisper to Shiro how lucky they were to be able to get rooms at such short notice.

A helpful hotel employee, who was driving their cart loaded up Keith and Lance's bags as Lance had his hands full corralling the dark haired guitarist. Before long they were quietly heading out of the parking lot down impossibly narrow roads. Lance could both hear and smell water close buy, and the calling of night birds in the distance.

The clouds, seeming to decide that now the concert was over, it would be a good time to part. Their parting allowed the bright moon to illuminate the band's path and destination. Lance was distracted by trying to keep Keith's wrapped up in his blanket while preventing his butt from sliding off the edge of the cart's seat. Thus, he missed the first view of the entrance to an honest-to-goodness covered bridge over a moat. Lance felt his jaw fall drop as they entered a courtyard and the outline of a castle rose into his view. The building was awesome and imposing against the impetuous moonlit sky. The driver of their cart pulled up in front of another, smaller, castle like structure. The sign out front read "Maiden's Tower."

"No fucking way!" Lance declared, causing Keith to groan into his shoulder. Both Adam and Shiro responding, the former holding a finger to his lips saying "Sshhhhhhhh." and the latter with a hushed and disapproving, "Lance, language."

The band was definitely out of sorts, But it seemed they had most of the rooms in this particular building. There were no other people in the entryway/lobby, nor the corridors as they made their way to their rooms. Keith was still barely conscious and Lance had to stop several times to pull him up and adjust his lolling head. "Buddy, you really have to help me out here." Lance whispered to his friend.

Now that they were out of the dim, moonlit night and in warm light of the building Lance noticed that Adam's face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and his nose red. Keith's cold was making its rounds. Adam was leaning heavily against Shiro's side. Shiro met Lance's eyes with his own pleading ones. "Do you have Keith?"

Lance nodded and waved him off. "Take care of your sick boyfriend, I'll take care of... Keith." he said, gesturing with his head toward the man resting against his shoulder. Shiro looked relieved and Lance was grateful that he didn't pick up on the gaff.

Lance was grateful the staff had accompanied them to their rooms, because there was no way Lance could unlock and open the door while holding up Keith. He smiled gratefully at the young man who opened the door dropping off their luggage. Lance guided Keith to a luxurious bed and attempted to release him onto the surface gently. Good intentions aside, it was a clumsy execution, as Lance practically dropped his friend face forward onto a delicate floral duvet cover. Keith groaned in relief and began burrowing into the blankes.

"No can do." Lance said, grabbing Keith by the cuff of his jeans. "Buddy, we have to get you out of these wet clothes and warmed up." Keith's groan of protest, sounded vaguely like a whiny , "Nooooo." But Lance was adamant. He grew up with a Grandmother and Mother had serious protocols around caring for the sick. He must have said this outloud because Keith responded by throwing himself backward in either exhaustion or frustration growling something like, "Fine, undress me!"

Lance's face burned at the potential implication of Keith's wording. He pulled off the damp lion slippers and his mouth went dry as he tried to figure out what to do next. "Umm," He started with uncertainty, "you have underwear on, right?" Keith managed to open his eyes enough to level Lance with a glare. "Yes Lance. Unbelievably, I choose _**not**_ to go commando for the _**coldest**_ , _**wettest**_ concert we have ever played." with a voice that was rough with overuse and exhaustion. Lance was in trouble, because he felt the effects of that in every part of his, suddenly, overly warm body. "Righto." He said, trying to stay cool. "Can you undo them and I will try to pull them off?

Keith seemed to collapse after his small outburst, all energy drained. His hands moved as though weighted, toward his waist. His eyes seemed to shutter as he looked down to fuss with the fly of his jeans, he struggled with the button for a moment and Lance was terrified he would need help with it. Finally he got both undone and started to push the tight, damp, denim off his hips, almost pulling off the red briefs in the process. Lance tried to stay sharply focused on the task at hand, avoiding looking at Keith's toned hips and thighs and knees and… the pants were off… thank heavens. Keith was wrapping himself in the duvet, but Lance was not having it.

"Dude, I am going to run you a shower. You need to warm up."

Keith groaned again, but with a kind of unhappy acceptance.

Lance found himself in the ensuite bathroom and took a minute to survey himself in the mirror. His own make up was blurred from sweat, rain and humidity. His cheeks were high with colour and his eyes overly bright in the mirror. He could feel a tell tale tickle at the base of his throat, a foretelling of his own cold incubating in his system. But that was secondary to other symptoms he was currently fighting.

He shook a finger at himself in the mirror, "Friends do not get _turned on_ helping sick friends." He admonished his reflection in a husky whisper. "That's just…. Sick." He finished lamely. He nodded at the mirror Lance, as though they had come to agreement on some important protocols. But then, inexplicably ran fingers through his hair, trying to tidy the mess of leftover hairspray, weather and dancing. Frowning, because his efforts only served to make everything look more disheveled. 'Like after a night of great sex'. "Stop it!" He said to the reflection, who obviously was responsible for his unbidden thoughts. "Stop it, stop it, stop it." He repeated, punctuating it by smacking the sides of his face.

He turned on his heel to face the shower stall, reminding himself that his reactions were very inappropriate given the Keith was practically unconscious right now, alternating between fever and chills. Once he got the shower to a soothing warm temperature, he took a fortifying breath before stepping back into the bedroom. Immediately all his more base reactions shift to nurturing ones. Keith just looked so… cute. I mean, if you find sick, drowned cats cute. He had managed to burrito himself into the duvet, with only one arm outside of it, the other curled under the pillow his head was resting on. His hair a messy dark halo around his pale skin. Keith's face was not relaxed in the state of sleep. Instead he appeared worried, his forehead furrowed and exhausted lines around his mouth and eyes. His other hand was wrapped around the other pillow, hugging it close to his chest. A line of drool escaping from his open mouth as he took shallow breaths that made Lance worry about the congestion in his lungs.

Lance considers leaving Keith to sleep, but one touch of his hand on Keith's indicated the dark haired man was still cold. "Hey buddy." Lance said, shaking his friend gently. "Keith, wake up. The shower is all ready for you." Keith groans softly, pulling the pillow in his arms closer and rubbing his face into it. Lance grimaces at the snot and drool being spread on the expensive pillow case.

"Du-ude." Lance says, rubbing circles around Keith's shoulders. "I know you don't wanna get up, but once we get you warmed up you'll be able to sleep better."

Keith's eyes blink open, and he stares up at Lance with a blurry, uncomprehending look. "Just a quick shower, to warm up your hands and feet and stuff." Keith shivers, as though just becoming aware of his limbs and how cold they are. "Kay?" Lance asks gently. Long dark lashes blink around violet red rimmed eyes. Lance isn't sure if Keith is actually hearing him. But he moves to the edge of the bed and sits up with the duvet still wrapped around him.

Lance still has his hand resting on Keith's shoulder, still rubbing comforting circles. Keith leans into Lance in an endearing way. Stopping just before resting his face against Lance's stomach. The dark haired man seems to shake himself out of a reverie, looking up again. Lance loses himself in a sea of purple before Keith abruptly says,"You really shouldn't be here."

Lance feels a sharp stab in the middle of his ribs at those words, and stutters out, "Why not?" before he can stop himself. Keith wavers in his spot, eyes squinting in confusion, as though he isn't even sure of the answer. All at once it seems as though it is taking too much energy to look upwards at Lance. "Gonna get sick." He manages, before his chin drops and he finally leans into his friend. Lance wraps his hand further around Keith's back to support him, realizing he is enjoying the moment far too much. He snorts with self derision as he gives into temptation to card his fingers through Keith's hair. "Dude, that is the least of my worries." He says mostly to himself. Keith makes a questioning noise, which Lance ignores, shifting gears.

"Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?" Lance asks, squatting down so he is at Keith's eye level, shifting to continue supporting him, both hands on either of Keith's shoulders. His eyes are closed and it takes him a moment to answer.

Taking a fortifying breath Keith nods. "Yeah, with some help."

Lance hesitates. "Do you think you will be okay on your own once you are in there?' he asks.

"I guess we'll see." Keith says cryptically.

It is a bit comical, untangling Keith out of the duvet and leading him into the bathroom, which is now full of steam from the running shower. Lance settles Keith onto the closed toilet seat in his red briefs and steadies him, before running back into the bedroom and returning with a luxuriously soft, white bathrobe with the Castle's crest on it. He hangs it right beside the shower so Keith can reach it as soon as he gets out. He runs back out to the room to grab Keith's toiletry bag. "Hand that here." Keith says. Lance complies and Keith pulls out his toothbrush and toothpaste, muttering, "Might as well do this sitting down." Lance double and triple checks that Keith is okay before exiting the space. It is a testament as to how sick Keith is that he accepts the doting, careful care.

Lance paces outside the bathroom door, half expecting a loud crash or some kind thud when Keith faints. But all he hears is the steady running of water. He busies himself straightening the bed and turning back the duvet and sheets It feels like ages, but in reality it is only ten minutes or so before the taps turn off. There are muffled sounds, and some loud hacking coughs and some choice words uttered by Keith, which lead's Lance to rap on the door and inquire if he is okay. Keith must be feeling a bit better, because he growls out, "I'm fine. Stop hovering." Lance is too relieved to be offended.

While Keith finishes off in the bathroom, there is a knock on the door. It is Shiro with a mug of hot tea, a supersized box of tissues and some cold medication. "How's he doing?" Shiro asks, sticking his head in the room, and looking confused and finding Lance alone. Lance gestures at the bathroom door. "He's just getting out of the shower." The manager looks suitably impressed, "You may have a knack for this." Lance shrugs modestly, but is gratified by the praise. "Maybe Keith is just a good patient." He says, just before there is a crash of by something hitting the floor in the bathroom, followed by a string of curses. "Yeah," Shiro says, grinning wryly while unloading his gifts on to the bedside table. "Definitely not that." He pats Lance on the shoulder and opens the door. "Adam sucks at being sick too." he says conspiratorially.

"I can hear you!" Keith calls irritably from the bathroom. But Shiro is already gone.

Lance turns to find Keith bracing himself on the frame of the now open bathroom door.

"Do you need some help?" He asks neutrally.

Keith really looks like he wants to refuse.

Infact Keith looks like he wants Lance to take his offers of help and stick them where the sun doesn't shine.

It takes a moment, but finally Keith relents and says stonily, "Yes, I do."

"What's the magic word?" Lance teases, earning a stormy scowl from Keith. He is so relieved to see that fighting spirit back that he fairly skips to Keith's side to help him back to the bed. He is relieved to feel Keith hands are no longer chilled. He also quickly discovers that while Keith is being feisty with his words, he can barely hold himself up. Lance takes much of his weight, letting him down gently on the sheets and immediately covering and tucking him in, much like his Abuelita used to do. He says as much aloud, but regrets it as Keith seems to disappear into himself at his words.

"You should try and drink." Lance suggests, in part to distract Keith from whatever dark, moody place he was falling into . Keith accepts the mug of lemony scented tea while Lance reviews the back of the medicine box. He pulls open the package, popping a capsule from its plastic case and hands it to Keith, saying, "This should help you sleep, but prior experience tells me it'll give you weird ass dreams." Keith squints at the pill and asks, "How weird?" Lance shrugs and gives Keith's hand an encouraging push. "Getting better weird." Keith attempts to roll his eyes, but seems to either get dizzy or lose his energy half way. He begrudgingly takes the pill, draining the last of the mug and handing it back to Lance and lies fully back onto the pillows, closing his eyes.

Lance is reluctant to leave. He sits on the side of the bed watching because he just wants to take care of Keith right now. Keith is letting him stay close and comfort him, and as bullheaded and independent arsehole, he rarely lets others do that. Lance is not great at keeping things inside, and after a moment the words sneak out. "You really scared me tonight Keith." he hears himself say in a small voice.

Keith doesn't open his eyes, but reaches out to rest his hand on Lance's arm. He moves his lips as though he is trying to talk, and finally Lance hears a drowsy, "Mmm sorry man." This is accompanied by a gentle squeeze, before Keith slips into a deep, drug induced, slumber.

Lance doesn't know how long he stays, watching Keith sleep. After a while he rinses out the tea mug and fills it with water, leaving it on the bed side table with the medication. He turns the bathroom light on, but mostly closes the door, so Keith can find his way if he gets up in the night. Then, turning off the rest of the lights he slips quietly out the door and finds his way to his own room. The hallways are dim and quiet.

Lance only does the bare minimum of his night time routine, feeling exhausted from the last few days and the stress of tonight. His dreams are a mix of reliving the evening's performance, Keith collapsing and Lance taking care of him. They are not restful and when his alarm goes off in the morning, he doesn't feel as though he has slept at all.

 **Song's currently on Keith's play list as per Matt:**

 ** _Fever_** **Peggy Lee**

 ** _Why don't you do right?_** **Julie London**

 _ **They can't take that away from me.**_ **Ella Fitzgerald**

 _ **Chain of Fools**_ **Aretha Franklin**


	13. Chapter 13 - Help Me

Guilty Pleasure

Chapter 13

Help Me

 **Voltron, D of the U and Characters are not owned by me. Those all belong to Dreamworks.**

 **Also, please don't post anywhere else.**

Notes: Lance is in denial. Hunk is a good friend. Shiro is a good brother.

Lance stops to check on Keith as he heads down to breakfast that morning. He had kept the extra door key, but Shiro must have had one too, as the manager is quietly exiting Keith's room when Lance approaches. Shiro holds a finger up to his lips, drawing Lance away from the door.

"Keith's not coming to the signing event today." Shiro tells him solemnly as they reach the entrance to the dining room.

Lance is relieved, but has to ask. "How did you get him to agree to take a break?"

Shiro's eyes dart sideways, "Well, he was sleeping and I, uh, didn't wake him up." He says sheepishly.

"Ah." Lance nods with a tight smile.

It turns out that the 'hotel' is actually a bed and breakfast on the grounds of a famous castle The Maiden's Tower is the only accommodation on the inside of the moat area. The castle is a museum and only open to visitors during certain hours. This offers a level of extra privacy to guests when the grounds are closed. Lance learns that the site opens at 11 on Sundays, so they will not be disturbed during breakfast. The only other people around are other guests staying in different houses on the property.

Lance opts for some oatmeal and a very large, very hot coffee. He is fighting off his own version of Keith's cold and his stomach still feels tight from the events of the previous day. The others also seemed pretty low energy, making breakfast a quiet affair.

Adam must be feeling pretty badly, because he doesn't come down for breakfast. Shiro goes over the day's itinerary and informs the rest of the group that Keith would be staying at the hotel. There is murmured assent in response to that decision.

The trip back to the bus (on foot) isn't a problem at all. Some guests do a double take, seeing the band heading from the covered bridge to the parking lot. A friendly mom with teenagers waves, while her daughters hide behind her and whisper, "Mom! You are so embarrassing."

It isn't until the bus is on the road that Lance feels the tension in his stomach loosen. He realizes he was worried Keith would wake up and demand to go with them, pitching a fit and insisting he was alright. He makes small talk with Hunk as they watch the beautiful grounds of the Castle pass by.

The event is unspectacular. People are disappointed, but generally kind about Keith not being there. Some fans ask Lance to pass on art or well wishes to the dark haired front man.

Near the end of the signing, as festival staff are helping to wrap things up, Lance feels a pointy elbow, hit him in the hip, HARD.

"Pidge, What the…"

"SHHHHH!" Pidge almost growls at him, gesturing toward figure with a camera to the left of the remaining crowd.

"Huh… OH." Lance said as he catches sight of the _Galra Press_ head photographer. Others might call Zethrid a 'handsome' woman, but to Lance she is purely intimidating. She stands a full 6 foot something, and is built like a brick shit house. She wears an 80s inspired leather jacket, that serves to make her shoulders look huge. On her feet are knee high, black leather boots with heels. Those add at least another inch and a half to her towering height. She wears her customary black snap back with pink lining. It is turned backwards to make it easier to take pictures. Even her makeup seems designed to intimidate. All told, Lance feels pretty proud that when her eyes meet his with a challenge, he doesn't waver. There is a moment where they stare one another down, before she gives an unfriendly smile, more of a scoff, and breaks her gaze by raising her camera, taking a series of photos.

Lance studiously ignores her after that, making a point to be extra gracious to the last of their fans wanting tee shirts and posters signed. Afterward, as they are hustled back onto the bus, Lance tries to forget the confrontation. Galra Press at their events is never a good thing. But there is no use worrying about it, it's not like they could control what the gossip site posted about them. But the whole thing leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Upon returning to the Castle grounds, Lance slips upstairs to peak in on Keith. He is unsettled to find Matt already in his room. Keith, at some point, had slipped on some cotton pyjama bottoms and is sleeping with his blankets kicked off, his pale skin with a sheen of fever. On the bedside table is an almost untouched bowl of soup.

"Couldn't get him to eat." Matt says, in a friendly voice seemingly unaware of Lance's dark mood.

"He probably won't eat until his fever breaks." Lance replies, with a hint of superiority. Matt is clearly not a knowledgeable care provider.

"That's what Coran said." Matt responds affably.

"You should probably leave." Lance abruptly changes the subject. "You know, you don't want to get sick or anything."

Matt shrugs, "Eh, I figure I am already exposed. You know?" Lance glowers at the smaller man. "Also, I am trying to be a worthy control subject for Pidge's experiment."

That distracts Lance, "What experiment?"

"I took some of that homeopathic remedy Hunk had. I figure I will probably still get sick, but Pidge wants to know if taking it has any 'statistically significant' impact." Matt informs him.

"Hmm" replies Lance.

Not being able to comfortably sit in Keith's room with Matt hovering about, Lance goes looking for Hunk.

After days of rain, the sky is a deep endless blue. The sun was warm, but the air is still damp and windy. Despite the good weather, the castle is not currently overrun with tourists. It is late afternoon on a Sunday and many of the day-trippers have already headed home. The two friends find a place to have a late lunch in a restaurant/inn beyond the moat. Then they head back in to wander about the actual Castle. Lance cannot help but touch things. There are crests and paintings and miniatures and swords and…

"Hey Hunk, let's get a selfie with this suit of armour."

"Not sure if that's the best idea Dude."

"Mnah. It'll be fine."

Eventually, Hunk has to drag Lance out after the fifth time they were reminded that the exhibits are 'delicate', 'expensive' and 'irreplaceable.'

They find their way to a castle themed mini putt course adjacent a giant castle themed playground. The two teenagers who had spotted the band in the morning are the only other players. After much deliberation, the shy girls come to ask for autographs. Lance, usually fond of fan attention, struggles to keep smiling as the girls gush at them.

When they leave, Hunk pats the smaller man on the shoulder. "Should I ask?"

"I'm just tired bro." Lance responds.

"If you say so man."

Lance gives a wry laugh at his friend's subtle sarcasm. "Seriously, what else would it be?"

Hunk is on his knees, putting extra effort into lining up a shot between two pieces of wood. "Hmmm." Is his only response.

"Hunk? Seriously? What else could it be?" Lance asks again.

Hunk stands to take the shot, and pulls back his putter with a careful swing.

"HuNk!" Lance whines, just as the other man follows through with the shot. His ball rolls directly toward one of the logs, bouncing straight upwards and landing with a splash into the stone lined water hazards surrounding this part of the course.

A frustrated sigh escaped Hunks mouth as he raises his eyes skyward.

"Sorry?" Lance offers.

"No problem, just take your turn." Hunk gestures to the starting point.

….

Four holes later, Hunk is once again lining up a shot, this time aiming for a mini covered bridge, over a mini moat into a mini castle courtyard.

Lance asks. "I am just curious, what do you think is going on?"

Hunk sighs. "I knew this wasn't over."

"Oh, it's over." Lance says, gesturing with his golf club. Hunk moves back, away from the metal implement. "It is you who thinks it is something. It's not something. In fact, it is a big fat nothing. But since you clearly think it is something, **I** want to know what **you** think it is."

Hunk blinks. Even for someone fluent in _Lance_ , that particular phrase took a moment to translate.

Sighing again, Hunk swings, grateful that the ball goes up and over the bridge, but goes right past the hole on the other side.

"If you say it's nothing, then it's nothing." Hunk responds in a placating voice.

"Oh, it's nothing." Lance says emphatically, as he lines up his shot. He swings, almost nonchalantly, and his ball goes up over the bridge and straight into the hole on the other side.

"Ugh!" Hunk groans, "How do you even do that?"

"I don't know man." Lance shrugs as he saunters around to grab his golf ball. "It's like a super power, the harder the mini putt shot, the more likely I am to get a hole-in-one."

Hunk lines up his putt and just as he is about to swing…

"The point is, you thought it was 'something' and I want to know what the 'something' is, that you thought it was."

Hunk's ball goes past the hole again.

"Didn't I just agree it was nothing?" Hunk questions desperately, finally making his putt.

Lance balances his putter on his shoulder (like a soldier carrying a gun) and marches to the next hole, leaving Hunk to retrieve his own ball and follow behind.

"But at first you thought it was 'something' _."_ Lance insisted.

"Did I?" Hunk argued, "I don't remember saying that."

"You said, and I quote, 'If you say so.'" Lance nodded meaningfully while making air quotes around Hunk's words.

"Which means… what you say… is so." Hunk's eyebrows furrow into a puzzled expression. "I think."

"Except for the tone." Lance quipped.

"The tone?" Hunk asks, bewildered.

"Yes." Lance says smugly. "The tone, that says you think it's _something,_ when you are saying it's _nothing_."

They are on the last hole and Hunk takes 2 over par, while Lance gets another hole in one.

Lance does a victory dance.

After returning their putters and golf balls, the two friends begin walking back in the dusk.

"If you must know," Hunk begins reluctantly, "you just seem to be hyper-focused on Keith again, and I was a bit worried about it."

"What!?" Lance stops and gesticulates dramatically. "That is the 'nothing' that you thought was 'something'?" He exclaims, arms wide. "That's ridiculous."

Hunk shrugs sheepishly. "I just thought…"

"First of all…" Lance interrupts, arms flailing, "I am not hyper-focussed on Keith. I have only ever had an evenly-dispersed, consistent and very reasonable amount of focus on Keith. I have that because he is my bandmate and friend… and friends do that."

Hunk inhales to speak "..."

" _Again_?" Lance queries, "What does that even mean? I mean, I know what the word means, but there isn't an again here. Just a now... and, like, always. I mean, basically, a totally, non-hyper, healthy, consistent, _not-too-focused_ focus on a friend and bandmate."

Lance is out of breath, so quiet descends as they continue to walk on the cobblestone road, their shoes scuffing the ground.

"If you say so." Hunk says finally.


	14. Chapter 14 - I'll Be There For You

Guilty Pleasure - Chapter 14

"I'll Be There For You"

 _ **Voltron, Legendary Defenders and characters owned by Dreamworks.**_

 _ **I am really looking forward to the chapter after this one folks. Some of you may be impatient with this simmering pot... there is slow burn and there is slow burn. It is coming time to kick this up a notch or ten.**_

The band has a delicious dinner in the dining room before heading up for an early night. Hunk is gracious in not bringing up Lance's minor breakdown on the way back from the mini putt course. Unfortunately, Keith doesn't make it to dinner, but Matt is there, and disgustingly healthy looking. Lance notices grumpily because the tickle in his own throat has progressed to a full blown itch.

The band's next two gigs are club shows. Then they have a small break planned as they are more than halfway through the tour. Everyone seems about ready for a breather. Dinner, like this morning's breakfast, is subdued, but the mood is light.

The dining room is spacious and stunning in the evening light, warmly lit with candles. It adds a timeless quality to the space and with Allura sitting at the head of the table. One could believe she is an actual princess. The game of Boggle she is playing with Shiro and Pidge mars the image, but the tea served in gold-rimmed china helps feed the fantasy Lance is playing out in his mind. He is imagining they are knights of olden times enjoying a rare quiet moment. He is drawn out of his revery as a playful argument breaks out across the table due to Pidge's antics in making up words. Shiro's face is relaxed, but he still looks tired. Pidge's eyes have their usual wickedly intelligent gleam, but it is tempered by good humour and candlelight.

"No, Pidge, that is NOT a word. You cannot count it." Allura laughs, grabbing at Pidge's score sheet as Coran stands to one side, clearly the referee of this match, using an online dictionary on his phone. Pidge holds her scoresheet above their head, not expecting Shiro to reach up and grab it with ease.

"Sugar?" Matt offers, drawing Lance's gaze in the opposite direction. "No thank you." Lance says, putting his hand over his cup. "I was not randomized into the right control group in Pidge's experiment, and thus I am fighting off _Keith's_ cold." He quips, perhaps a little sharp, given Matt was just being nice.

As per usual, Matt is unaffected by Lance's snaky retort. He shrugs and adds milk to his own cup. "It's nice to see them having so much fun." Matt nods towards the others.

Lance shrugs, "We usually get along pretty well on the road." He muses. "Most of us anyway." Seeking relief, Lance takes a gulp of hot tea, rubbing his tongue on the top of his mouth. He wonders if can scratch the back of his throat with a fork, but quickly discards the idea, rubbing the outside of his neck instead. His nose has a decidedly drippy feeling.

Matt's face has shifted to something almost cagey. Lance wouldn't have noticed, except it is so different from the sound technician's usual affable nature. Matt shakes his head, "Man, you never give him a break do you?" He mutters almost unheard.

"Huh?" Lance sputters, confused.

But Matt's expression quickly smooths into something more pleasant. "Nothing. I am just moody." He smiles broadly as he says the last word, as though thinking of a private joke. "I am going to join the game, you coming?" He gestures again with his head.

"No, I am going to check on Keith and hit the hay." Lance responds, "See if I can beat this thing." He gestures to his throat.

Before leaving the dining room, Lance pours two mugs of the lemony ginger tea that Shiro brought up the night before. He adds a large dollop of honey to each and stirs. Sugar is bad for your immunity, but honey is soothing and healing, he justifies. He stops at his own room and pulls on his coziest blue plaid pyjamas. It is still late summer in England, but the damp weather of the past few days seems to have worked its way into his bones. He realizes he has left his slippers in Keith's room and pulls on a pair of cozy toe socks instead.

He putters over to Keith's door, knocking before he opens it with his key. There is a tray with an empty bowl and soda cracker crumbs on Keith's dresser. The bed is an empty tangle of sheets, and there is a pile of used tissues on the bedside table. Lance can hear the shower running beyond the closed bathroom door.

Putting down the mugs of fresh tea, Lance mutters, "Gross" as he picks up a waste basket and tries to knock the tissues into it with a room service menu, which he then throws in the recycling bin. He deposits the trash can beside the bed, so that Keith can just put his tissues straight in there from now on.

He then shakes out the bed coverings and remakes the bed, fluffing all the pillows. He takes last night's tea mug and puts it on the tray and slides the whole thing outside the door. Puts Keith's tea next to the half full box of tissues, and then settles himself on top of the covers, sitting up, on the other side of the bed with his own tea. Grabbing the TV remote he switches on the flat screen and starts flicking through stations.

It isn't long before Keith comes out of the steam filled washroom, no shirt and a fresh pair of cotton pyjama bottoms low on his hips, with a towel over his shoulders. Lance glances over and has to force his face to remain impassive as he brings his eyes back to the T.V. screen.

Is it hot in here?

"By all means, make yourself at home." Keith says voice dry and nasally.

"Thank you! I did." Lance fires back, pausing momentarily on Nicholas Cage in full body leather, revving a motorcycle. Keith plunks himself onto his own side of the bed. Lance continues flicking through stations.

"Hey," Keith says, "I like _Ghost Rider._ "

"You would." Lance heckles, finally stopping on an episode of _Friends._

"Really?" Keith complains.

"What?" Lance says, gesturing at the screen. "It's the episode _With all the Thanksgivings_." Tthat is all the argument needed to prove his choice is the best one.

Keith sighs, as though the discussion is taking too much of his energy. It is only then that Lance looks over to see Keith haphazardly rubbing his hair dry with his towel.

"Oh. My. God!" Lance exclaims. "What are you doing? No wonder you always have split ends."

Keith face is utterly baffled.

Lance holds out his hand, "Give. Me. The. Towel." He says seriously.

Keith still unsure, cautiously hands the towel to Lance.

Lance pulls himself up onto pillows and crosses his legs, gesturing for Keith to sit in front of him. The whole time he is lecturing Keith about the damage done by rubbing a towel over his damp hair.

"That tangles _everything_ and is way too rough for your cuticles. You need to be gentle with them Kieth.. Do you hear me? _Gentle_." Lance carefully enunciates the last word.

Wide eyed, Keith is still staring at Lance, who is still gesturing in front of himself. Perhaps Lance takes hair care more seriously than most. But whatever?

Keith slowly moves to sit in front of Lance as studio audience laughter highlights Joey running around with a turkey on his head.

"Gentle" Lance says again, this time close to Keith's ear.

Keith eyes him warily over his shoulder. "With my _cuticles_?" he asks. It is too bemused to be sarcastic, but it is clear that Keith is making fun of him.

"I didn't even know that hair had cuticles." Keith mutters.

The cuban man nods unperturbed by the teasing. He is teaching Keith some new skills, important ones. "You pat away extra moisture, gently and firmly." Lance says as he presses the towel against Keith's midnight locks. "That helps flatten the cuticles. It makes your hair shiny." Lance cannot help but smile when he says this.

Keith snorts, Lance ignores him.

"This is serious Keith. Gently and firmly. Gently and firmly." Repeats Lance, with meaning, as he continues to towel dry Keith's hair 'properly.'

The two men fall into a companionable silence.

The scene on the TV shifts to college aged Ross and Chandler coming home for Thanksgiving to a pre nose-job Rachel and a chubby Monica.

Lance reluctantly puts down the towel once Keith's hair is mostly dry. He gives into the temptation to gently finger comb it and fluff it out a bit, experiencing a thrill of delight when Keith leans into the touch. The mood is broken when the latter bursts into a coughing fit and has to get to the tissues again and Keith settles himself back on his own side of the bed.

Lance chuckles at Ross's embarrassing attempts to be noticed by Rachel. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Keith stretching and sighing.

"I don't get how those two finished the series as end-game." Keith muses, settling on his own side of the bed.

"Seriously?" Lance asks. "They were literally being set up since the first episode."

Keith scoffs, "Yeah, but it just got… boring. That whole 'break' thing."

"Comic genius." Lance objects, "The best jokes are the ones you can go back to - over and over again."

Keith eyerolls, blowing his nose and clearing his throat. He almost puts his used tissue on the bed side table, before Lance gestures meaningfully at the waste basket on the floor. "I am just saying, Ross never seemed to really _get_ Rachel, and he certainly didn't seem to respect her." Keith says, tossing the tissue into the basket.

Lance's sputters. " But they had a cute little baby." He reasons, "And they had to work so hard to get together. All that drama." He argues hands waving.

Keith shrugs settling into his pillows, on his side facing Lance. "Really? I kinda thought her and Joey were a better couple. I mean Ross kept chasing her, even when she wasn't interested. He would try to trick her and trip her up. But when Joey caught feelings, he dealt with them himself. He respected her, 'No.'"

"Also," he continued, after a pause. "I liked the way he encouraged her in her aspirations, even at the beginning. Remember how Ross belittled her and called her 'just a waitress'?"

Lance stared open-mouthed at Keith's philosophical analysis. Who'd of thought Keith would be wise in the ways of sit-com love? His silent stare seemed to make the other man feel uncomfortable.

"Phfft." Keith said, squirming. "I mean, it's not like I know anything about relationships." He shrugs, watching Lance more than the screen.

By the time Monica knocks on Chandler's door with a turkey on _her_ head, Keith is dozing. Lance switches off the flat screen and swallows the last of his cooling tea.

He pops a capsule out of the medicine box, encouraging Keith to take it with the last of his own beverage. Encouraging the drowsy man to get under the covers. Then Lance rinses Keith's cup and fills it with water, just as he had the night before. Turning out all the lights except the bathroom, Lance grabs his own mug and heads to the door, feeling an odd satisfaction in this time with Keith after having not seen him all day. He cannot help but turn and whisper into the quiet room, "Night Keith." After a moment he hears a shuffling of blankets and Keith's gruff and sleepy voice whisper back, "Night Lance."

The next morning Lance wakes up feeling rested for the first time in ages. His throat, however, feels like a gravel road. Something is playing on the edge of his consciousness. Like a nagging feeling, some puzzle his brain is trying to solve or a thing he needs to remember. He ponders, wondering if he had a particularly important dream that is creating this feeling. He doesn't spend too much time worrying about it though. Today they are heading to Glasgow and it is a 5 hour trip on the bus. Lance is really excited about going to Scotland so he puts his nagging thoughts on the back burner. He showers and heads down to breakfast leaving his ipad downloading some shows to watch on the journey.

Breakfast begins with everyone relaxed in a mostly jovial mood. It seems that most of them got a decent night's sleep. Keith hasn't made it to the dining room yet, but the others are in various stages of breakfast. Adam still looks wilted, but he has a cup of coffee and his trusty clipboard, leaning ever so slightly into Shiro, who looks down at him with warm eyes.

Lance decides on scrambled eggs and toast, and pours himself a cup of coffee from the carafe and is just enjoying his first sip when Pidge says "Shit." in a show stopping voice.

They are not looking at the laptop screen in front of them, but instead rubbing their nose, beneath their glasses, shoulders slumped in a posture of disappointment. The mood at the table shifts in a moment. Something about their tone fills the air with cold heaviness.

Shiro and Allura tilt back the screen in front of Pidge, to see what has caused their distress.

"Oh Dear." Allura says, softly as she seems to collapse into her seat. Shiro doesn't speak, but an angry breath comes out of his nose and his eyes squint dangerously.

Lance doesn't even register getting out of his own chair as he walks around the table to see what has everyone so upset. His blood runs cold as he catches a headline on the "Galra News" home page.

 **TLD on Verge of Break Up?**

 **Troubled Front Man Struggling On Stage and 'Letting Down the Team'.**

"No Fucking Way!" Lance exclaims with frustration pulling out his phone to bring up the entire article. Hunk grabs his hand, "Don't do it man. Don't read it. Don't give them the hits and get all worked up." he says calmly. Lance pulls his hand out of Hunk's and stalks back to his chair.

"I guess we should have expected something from them." Allura intoned, disappointment lacing every word. "I was so relieved they did not comment on the double booking…" Her words taper off with a sigh. Coran rubs her back. "It's not your fault." He says kindly. But Allura seems to take it on anyway. "Perhaps we should have made an announcement, at Saturday's show?"

Shiro, fist clenched, scoffs, "Keith would have never allowed it." He says harshly. "You know that." He follows, in a softer tone.

"Why do they always go after him?" Pidge asks angrily, already typing into their computer. "He was sick."

"Pidge." Hunk says in a warning tone.

Pidge ignores him, studiously tapping away at the keyboard. Both Shiro and Allura are alerted to something in Hunk's voice and both take note of Pidge's screen.

Hunk reacts faster than the others, slowly pulling the computer out of Pidge's reach. "We can't cyber attack their servers." He says plaintively. "Remember what happened last time?"

Pidge stretches forward to keep typing as Hunk continues pulling the laptop backwards. "I didn't get caught." They say defiantly, now stretched flat against the table still trying to type.

"Pidge." Shiro says gently as Pidge makes one last attempt to reach the keyboard. "Curse my short arms." They mutter sadly, falling face down against the table. The manager reaches a gentle hand, but before he can offer comfort, Pidge jumps up and turns to Shiro, face scrunched and dampness in the corner of their eyes. "I hate them." Pidge manages before throwing themselves into Shiro's arms. The manager hugs the smaller body and looks helplessly at the rest of the room.

Allura breaks the silence. "Well, I will call our legal department and see if there is anything we can do to get it pulled off their site" Her eyebrows are pinched with stress. Pidge follows Allura and Coran to call Head Office as Shiro pulls Adam into a quiet conversation and they head out of the room as well.

Lance is coldly furious as he gives Hunk a challenging look and pulls up the story on his phone. Hunk shrugs and sighs, raising his eyes skyward for a moment. Hunk is right, Lance will be bitterly pissed off after he reads this story. But he can't help himself, he has to know.

 **TLD on Verge of Break Up?**

 **Troubled Front Man Struggling On Stage and 'Letting Down the Team'**

 **Sources close to The Legendary Defenders have shared details of Keith Kogane's erratic behaviour on the band's much anticipated European tour. It seems the lead singer barely made it through their main stage show at the Leeds Festival in England this past weekend. He also missed an important band event the following day. The Defenders apologized for his absence saying 'Kogane was sick with a virus.' However, The Galra Press has heard that the problems Kogane faces are more serious.**

 **Kogane, who is known for his questionable life choices, is rumoured to be courting a solo recording contract with Blade Records and has been seen talking to the company's executives. Blade is a small label, their only claim to fame being the mega star Norlox. We at Galra Press imagine they are salivating at the chance of scooping TLD's main talent.**

 **For those who do not know, Blade is also the home for 80's rocker Krolia, who is currently Norlox's manager. Some of you will remember Krolia's addiction issues and questionable past, which brought her own recording career to a premature end. Perhaps Kogane would be more at home with the party vibe there at than with the straight laced folks at Altea.**

 **Remember, you heard it here first.**

There is a photo of Lance at yesterday's signing ,staring with sharp and challenging eyes at the camera. The implication of the photo with the story is that Lance is angry with Keith. Lance's fury and frustration must show on his face as Hunk pulls out the chair beside him. "I told you not to read it." He says gruffly.

"It's bad." Lance says, still seeing red.

"They never write anything good." Hunk says rhetorically.

"Legal isn't going to be able to do anything." Lance's whole face is pulled into an angry pout. "They skirt around the truth and cast aspersions, but just enough to imply something, never outright saying it."

"It's what they do Lance." Hunk reasons gently.

Lance moves to look at his phone again, but this time Hunk pulls it out of his friend's hand.

"Don't you DARE read the comments." Hunk says seriously.

"What comments?" Keith's voice comes from behind them.

Lance can feel the colour drain from his own face, as he watches Hunk pale beside him.

Keith moves around the table grabbing a coffee, looking around at the deserted space with half full plates. "Everybody already eat?" He said plopping down on Lance's other side.

Lance tries to school his face to meet Keith's gaze, but the dark haired man sees right through it.

"What?" Keith questions. "What happened?" He asks again, looking worriedly around the table.

"Auuuhhh." Lance begins…

But Hunk simply hands over Lance's phone. Keith takes it uncertainly, meeting Hunk's serious and apologetic gaze. Lance watches Keith's changing expressions as he reads the short paragraphs. The lines around his mouth tighten, a sadness flashes momentarily in his violet eyes. His shoulders slump ever so slightly. Lance watches it all, wishing he could protect Keith from every last word. He watches when Keith steels his posture, straightens his back and a mask falls over his face.

He deliberately hands Hunk back the device and shrugs. "It isn't anything they haven't said before," Keith says dryly.

Lance wants to rail, to yell, to cry. "How can you be so blase about this?" He fires at his friend.

"Lance." Hunk whispers. He senses Hunk's warning arm in front of him. But Lance is staring at Keith's emotionless face. He wants Keith to rage, to deny everything. To come out swinging, just like he would have in High School.

Keith scoffs, pulling a piece of toast off of Lance's plate and taking a bite. He chews with conviction, takes a swallow of coffee and then says, "What's new about it Lance? Keith Kogane. Child of a broken home. Unreliable. Gonna leave the band, if he doesn't break it up with his crazy-ass behaviour first."

Keith raises an eyebrow, but then his face breaks for a moment. There is a brief flash of vulnerability before he looks away and makes a vague, hopeless gesture with his hand. He swallows twice before saying, "It just what they always write," he announces to the opposite wall. Then, taking a fortifying breath through his nose. "I'm going to go pack." he decides, dropping the bread crust back onto Lance's plate and pushing his chair back.

Lance grabs his hand to stop him. "They're wrong Keith." He says it with conviction.

A flash of doubt crosses Keith's face, but he agrees, "Sure. They're wrong."

"And they suck!" Says Hunk, enthusiastically.

Keith gives the smallest of smiles. "Yeah, that too."


End file.
